


Now I'm here

by KayomiKitten



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fix-It, Fluff and Angst, Freddie Mercury Lives, Guardian Angels, Hearing Voices, Historical Inaccuracy, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Kinda, Mother Hen Freddie Mercury, Nightmares, Not Beta Read, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Recovery, Self-Harm, Sharing a Bed, So much angst, Suicide Attempt, Tags May Change, Timeline What Timeline, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, What am I doing, lots of fluff, making it up as I go, sad confused roger noises
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:08:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 40
Words: 42,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24369370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KayomiKitten/pseuds/KayomiKitten
Summary: Roger, unable to deal with Freddie's passing, tries to kill himself.Only to wake up to find a very confused, and very alive, Freddie.Everyone else seems to think this is all just perfectly normal.Is it even possible this is all real?Will Roger be able to move on and accept this new life?Luckily he has and old friend watching out for him.
Relationships: John Deacon & Brian May & Freddie Mercury & Roger Taylor
Comments: 379
Kudos: 184





	1. Prolog: The end?

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Is This The Real Life?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16652926) by [yanderekirklandchan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yanderekirklandchan/pseuds/yanderekirklandchan). 



> Okay.  
> Let me tell you the tea, sis.  
> So I just read this amazing Queen fic, one of the first Queen fics I've ever read, and it was beautiful So beautiful that I had to write this garbage. Over a year without breaking my writers block, and this flew out of me in about 20 minutes. So this is probably complete trash and full or errors, but I decided to post it anyway. cuz reasons. This is the first time I've written for this fandom, and this is probably the worst pile of shit, but maybe someone will enjoy it. I am planning on working on more chapters if people want. I am not familiar with Queen ships, so I don't know if this fic is going to be purely platonic yet, but we will cross that bridge when i get around to writing it. 
> 
> So yea. thank you for coming to my ted talk. Enjoy?

It’s the call he was expecting, yet at the same time he was hoping would somehow never come. The words ring in his ears, painful and unprocessed. He knew this was inevitable, they all did, but that didn’t make it any easier to come to terms with. 

Dead.

Freddie is Dead.

Wonderful, talented, flamboyant, charming, lively, infuriating, stubborn, Freddie. 

Gone. 

Never again would Roger get to see his dear friend. He’d never perform with him again on stage, never record another song with him. He would never look up from his drums and see Freddie grinning back at him. Never feel the energy radiating from the crowd that only Freddie could inspire. He would never get to hear that incomparable voice again, at least not straight from the source. All he has now are recordings, tapes, a mere reflection that could never measure up to the real thing. 

It was more than Roger could handle, more than he could bare. The words floated around his head, his brain refusing to accept them as true. This was all just a bad dream, he’d wake up soon he had to. Any moment now, Freddie will walk through the door, some snarky comment on his tongue. He’ll scold Roger for worrying so much about him, and tell him to get some sleep because they have a long day in the recording studio tomorrow. Any second now…

But no. 

Nobodys coming. 

Freddie isn’t coming, because he’s….

Because he’s…. 

Roger moves before he even knows it. He can’t stay in his apartment, the walls are suffocating him, he needs to get out, he needs to get away. He slips out into the night. His mind is a blur, his body feels heavy and numb. The rain pelts his skin, freezing wind slaps against him, but he barely feels it. Completely on autopilot, he doesn’t realize where he’s going until he’s already there. 

He finds himself on a bridge. Only he’s not exactly on the bridge, but perched up on the railing. The wind billowing around him makes it difficult to keep balance, but he holds tight. He doesn’t need to question why he came here, he can’t keep living in a world without Freddie. He blinks the moisture, a mixture of rain and tears, from his eyes, and peers down at the swirling water underneath him. The river is shallow, so even with a storm like this churning it up, his chances of drowning are slim. However, the rocky bed beneath the water would probably be a safe bet. He took one last glance at the city behind him, and closed his eyes. 

“See you soon, Fred.” He whispered, and jumped. 

Roger braced himself for the chill of the water, the pain of the impact, but it never came. Everything just went completely blank. He waited for something to happen. Pain? Death? Anything? But it was just nothing, as if someone had hit pause on real life. Was this death? 

But then, he hears a voice, a voice he never imagined he’d hear again in his wildest dreams. 

“Oh Roger, I’m so sorry, my love.” Freddie croons, soft and sad. Roger holds onto the voice. He wants to cry out, to answer, but he can't find his own voice. “It’s okay darling, it’s going to be alright. I’m going to fix everything.” 

And suddenly, Roger is enveloped by something soft and warm.


	2. Chapter 1: Where in the world is Roger Taylor?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ayo  
> So it’s 7am right now, I haven’t slept, and I have stuff to do today. I have to be out the door by 11:30 today. Kill me. This chapter is probably terrible because I am extremely tired. No one asked for more of this but I decided to write more anyway. Let me know what you think and if you want me to continue this story. I don’t think I’ll update daily, but I figure I should write while I’m motivated so yeah.

Roger is incredibly comfortable. He feels as if he’s laying on a bed of warm clouds. Everything is just peaceful and comforting. The very air around him feels like a nice warm hug. He didn’t seem to be able to move, or talk, or do much of anything, but he honestly doesn’t mind much. This isn’t what he imagined the afterlife to be like, but it’s actually pretty nice so he just lets himself float. He could get used to this. 

Gradually feeling starts to return properly to his body. It slowly spreads from the tips of his fingers and toes, up his limbs, and over his body. As he gathers more sensory input, he infers that he is laying down in bed. So last night had been a dream then? He’s still alive? Or is this Heaven? Is heaven just a big, comfy bed? 

He curls up, keeping his eyes firmly closed, deciding he didn’t want to think of any of that right now. He could figure it out later. For now, he just wants to hide away from the world and pretend it doesn’t exist. He’s not getting out of bed, and nobody can make him. 

Right on queue, there’s a knock on the door. Because of course there is. 

“Rog? You up mate?” 

Roger groans, shoving his face into the pillow. Recognizing the voice as Brian, but unwilling to get up and face the day. So it really had been a dream then. Brian has probably come to check on him after the news that….. 

No. No way he was getting out of bed today. 

“Go ‘way.” He calls flatly, not in the mood for company. Surprisingly, the response he gets isn’t some sympathetic or reassuring words, it’s a chuckle. 

“Aw, don’t be like that. Deacy’s made pancakes, and if you don’t hurry I’m eating your share.” So John was here as well then? Were they really that worried about him? They may have been right to be worried. Roger still wasn’t sure how he felt about the fact that his fall had only been a dream. Either way, why was Brian laughing, and talking about pancakes, as if everything was okay? Nothing was okay…

Roger sighed, there was no way he’d be able to sleep anymore right now, no matter how much he’d rather be unconscious.. There are too many thoughts, too many unanswered questions pulling at his mind. He rolls onto his back, opens his eyes, and nearly has a heart attack. 

He wasn’t in his own apartment. 

He was in a room that was vaguely familiar, though he was too startled to place it. He gazed around at the lavish decor. Whoever's room this is clearly has expensive taste. Everything from floor to ceiling, down to the bloody curtains and doorknob, was luxurious, like it belonged to Marie Antoinette. It was the kind of thing Freddie would like. 

Wait, Freddie. 

This is Freddie's room, Roger's brain finally supplies. This was a guest room in Freddie’s house, or what used to be Freddies house.Why was he here? Why the hell were any of them here? Rogers' head was spinning, none of it made any sense, and he needed answers. So despite the sinking feeling in his stomach, he pushes himself out of bed, and leaves to follow after Brian. 

He finds both Brian and John in the kitchen, in the middle of what is apparently a pleasant conversation. Brian was adding another pancake to his plate, which already has two full ones left on it. John was cutting a bite from his own stack, giggling about something Brian had apparently said. Both of them had content expressions, which kind of made Roger want to slap both of them

Roger clears his throat, and both men turn towards him. 

“Ah, morning sunshine.” Deacy greets him with an easy smile, gesturing towards the large stack of pancakes on the center of the table. “You’re lucky, they’re still nice and hot.” 

Roger is dumbfounded at the behavior of these two. Freddie, their best friend and lead singer, just died of some unspeakably horrible disease less than twenty four hours ago. Yet here they sit, in his damn kitchen no less, eating breakfast and relaxing as if it was just a regular morning like any other. 

Why don’t they care? Why are they here? Why is he here? 

“Rog?” John's tone has soured into one of concerns, but it’s still wrong. Wrong because his concern is misplaced. He's worried about Roger when so much else is wrong right now. 

“What the hell?” Is all he can manage as a response. “What the hell is going on? Why are we in Freddie’s house?” His bandmates look confused, blinking at him, before Brian eventually lets out a laugh. 

“Freddie’s house? Christ Roger I know you had an extra beer with dinner last night but I didn’t think you were that drunk.” 

Roger wants to scream because this is all wrong and none of this makes sense. What dinner? What beers? 

“You alright mate? That hungover are you?” Deacy adds with a chortle of his own. What could possibly be funny about any of this? Didn’t they know the whole world was turned upside down? 

Roger shakes his head, both to deny the accusation and to clear it. His head is spinning and pounding in his skull, as he tries to make any sense of what’s going on. 

“Why… why are we…” he struggles to get his thoughts into a coherent sentence for the boys to understand. “Freddie…. he…” 

“Freddie…..?”Brian prompts after a moment of silence. “What about Freddie?” 

“Are you talking about me, darling? Only good things I hope.” 

The voice rings out from behind Roger, and he swears his heart actually stops for a few seconds. That’s impossible. Freddie is dead, he’s just hearing things. Add that to the list of things wrong with this morning. He just misses Fred a lot, that’s all. He turns around to prove to himself that he was imagining things. 

Which has the opposite effect he was hoping for because behind him, leaning against the door frame, grinning at him, was Freddie fucking Mercury. 

“Good morning Roger, you’re looking ravishing today.”


	3. Chapter 2: The Anchor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: I actually share a birthday with Freddie Mercury.  
> Additional fun fact that isn't really a fun fact: I was watching Bohemian Rhapsody while I wrote this and kept getting distracted by Ben Hardy. He is prettier than anyone has any right to be. How dare.  
> Anyway! Thank you all so much for the sweet comments. Oh my god! I never expected anyone to read this, let alone enjoy it. I hate my writing generally, I think it's trash, but I'm glad you all like it. If you keep reading, I will keep trying to entertain you.

Roger isn’t sure how to process the sight in front of him. 

Freddie was leaning on the doorframe, draped in a silky black robe. He had the look of general dishevelment that only comes from having just woken up. He was different though. He looked a decent bit heavier than last time Roger had seen him, not big by any means, but more solid. His skin looks plumper, it’s softly glowing in the morning light. His eyes held a certain spakle that Roger hadn’t seen in many months, years maybe. 

He looked fantastic, absolutely fantastic. 

“Freddie?” Roger asks, utterly dumbfounded, his voice rough. 

“You were expecting someone else, Dear?” Freddies eyes crinkle slightly, amusement clear in his tone. 

“Mornin, Fred.” Brain calls casually over Rogers head, Freddie gives him a small nod of acknowledgement. 

“Is that pancakes I smell?” He asks, walking past a frozen in place Roger. Though his eyes linger on the drummer for a beat longer. 

“Hot and fresh!” Deacy announces cheerfully, earning an interested hum from Freddie. Roger feels like his head is going to melt off of his shoulders. How is any of this happening? 

“So, what’s wrong with blondie?” He turns slowly to find Freddie staring at him out of the corner of his eye. His tone is nonchalant and conversational as he grabs a few cakes from the stack. “He seems a bit up tight this morning.” 

“Think he’s just a bit hungover. ” John says with a shrug, handing Freddie the bottle of syrup. Freddies smirks at this, tucking into his breakfast. “Probably be right as rain after some coffee, eh Rog?” 

Freddie seems to accept this, because he changes the subject. He begins rambling about wanting to get back to the studio, but Roger tunes him out. He stands staring at the vocalist, trying to comprehend, well, anything really. 

Freddie is dead.

But he can’t be, because he’s sitting right here. 

But he can’t be, because he’s dead. 

But he’s clearly not. 

Roger, without thinking about it, is across the room. Standing in front of Freddie, if it even is Freddie. Freddie, stops mid sentence, turning to look up at the blonde. Roger is now well into his personal space. It's a good thing Freddie isn’t shy about being touched, because Roger does just that. He reaches a hand out, placing it on Feddies shoulder, because he has to. He has to feel, to connect, to see if he’s just going to disappear into a puff of smoke before his eyes. 

He gives a light squeeze, feeling the warmth of Freddie’s skin under his hand. He trails his hand down the bicep, feeling the sturdy muscle there. Lower still down the arm, feeling, just feeling. Solid, all the way down. Real. 

But how?

Someone clears their throat. 

“I’m all for being felt up, darling, but at least buy me dinner first.” Freddie jokes, looking up at him with an amused expression. The comment is lighthearted in nature, but Roger retracts his hand as if he’s been burned. Staring back at Freddie, breaths coming out fast and shallow, anxiety rising. 

“Rog?” The voice is soft, and he can’t place which one of them is speaking. His eyes snap around the room to each of them, they are all staring at him. Each one of them has a look of genuine concern, as if he’s what’s wrong here. As if he’s in the wrong for being the only thing rightside up in this upside down world. It’s too much. 

“I...I have to go.” He mumbles quickly, dashing off before the panic overtakes him. Ignoring the chorus of voices that follows him. He goes to his room, locking the door behind him. He just can’t face the others right now. 

Roger paces around the room. His room? Freddie's room? He’s way beyond details right now. He can’t seem to catch his breath properly, every gulp of air just feels shallow, like it doesn’t actually reach his lungs. Nothing about any of this makes any sense. He closes his eyes, wishing he had some sort of anchor to stop his spinning head, takes a step, and stubs his toe on a bedpost. 

“Shit!” He exclaims, more startled than in pain as his toe starts gently throbbing. He takes a deep breath, scolding himself for not being more careful, he could have broken his damn toe. But then it occurs to him that since the pain started, his mind had been strangely quiet. The spinning had slowed, the panic calming slightly. Though it was just below the surface. 

He wanted it to stop completely. 

He needed it to stop completely. 

Without giving it much thought, he rips off his pajama bottoms, standing in just his boxers. He pulls the left leg up, and after a second's hesitation, digs his nails into his own flesh. He’s not trying to do any serious damage to himself, he doesn’t want to bleed or anything, he just needs a bit of pain. It hurts, oh does it hurt, he isn’t gentle on himself. He grits his teeth, holding out, and sure enough, his insides calm. 

He’s found his anchor. 

He lets out a long, slow, breath of relief. He can finally think clearly. He releases his thigh, with a wince. He hadn’t enjoyed that at all, but it was a necessary evil to get his mind under control. He notes the five dark red crescents on his pale skin. He frowns. Oh..he hadn’t meant to break the skin.. Oh well, a small sacrifice. And it's not like any of them are really bleeding. He’d just have to be more careful next time. 

Next time? Is he going to do this again? 

Should he? Definitely not. 

Will he? Probably. 

He jumps when someone knocks on his door. 

“Rog? You alright in there mate? Heard a thump a few minutes ago.” Brain calls out tentatively. Roger scrambles to put his pants back on, feeling slightly more ready to face the guys now that his head is clearer. Everything is still wrong, but he can’t figure any of it out if he’s too busy freaking out. He really does feel better now. He may even have a pancake if they're still warm. 

He takes one final calming breath, steadies himself, and goes to open the door.


	4. Chapter 3: What did you do?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! 
> 
> I absolutly hate this chapter, not gonna lie. I hope you guys like it though. If you don't, that's okay, I know when my writing is worse than usual. I am not good at writing dialog, so yea. Anyway! Thank you again for all the sweet comments and support. It really brightens my day. 
> 
> You're all breathtaking.

To say that breakfast was awkward would be a bit of an understatement. Everyone tried to focus on their food, making light conversation, but there was an underlying tension in the air. They were all worried about Roger. Sure, he seems alright now, eating and giving short answers when they try to include him in the conversation, but he’s still clearly off.

What exactly was that before?

Roger obviously wasn’t in the mood to converse, but that was fine. He busied himself with eating, hearing the others chat but clearly not really listening. He kept to himself, though occasionally his eyes would drift over to Freddie, and linger there just a bit too long. You could see the turmoil clearly in his eyes, but he would catch himself after a few seconds and look away. Freddie, at first, pretended not to notice, but eventually it got to be too much. So he cleared his throat.

“Rog?” Roger blinked, a look of recognition coming over his face, as if the world had just come back into focus.

“Uh, yeah?”

“You keep looking at me like you think I’m going to explode.” Freddie says, not unkindly.

“Oh sorry, I uh, sorry.” Roger mumbles out, looking down at the table, his cheeks growing slightly red. Freddie frowns, he hadn’t meant it as an accusation.

“It’s quite alright, darling, you know I don’t mind the attention. I’m just wondering if everything is alright?” He says, his voice uncharacteristically gentle, looking to the others for help, he’s not good with emotions.

“Oh, yeah I’m good.”

“You sure, Rog? You seem really off today.” Brian adds, wanting to make sure his friend is okay, but also to help out Fred.

“Yeah.” Roger says with a heavy sigh. “Just one of those days, I suppose.” He puts on a smile, it’s a bit forced, but the effort is there. “Here, I’ll do the washing up.” He offers, standing up to start gathering the plates.

“Oh there's definitely something wrong with him, someone take his temperature.” Deacy says dramatically. Trying to add humor to the situation even though he’s just as worried as the others.

“Shut up!” Roger bitches at him, leaving to take the dishes to the kitchen. He spares John a glare on his way out, though there's no real heat behind it. Deacy blows him a kiss, and earns a genuine chuckle from the drummer for his effort.

It’s a relief to hear.

As soon as he’s out of earshot, Brain turns to the others, speaking in a hushed tone.

“Something’s definitely going on with him, never seen him that out if it before.” Freddie and Deacy both nod in agreement.

“I wonder what’s got him all wound up, Freddie?” Freddie’s face scrunches slightly as the other two turn their attention to him.

“You think I know? I’m just as worried as the two of you.”

“Maybe you should talk to him.” Brian suggests to the singer, who’s taken aback.

“Me? Why me? You know I’m not good with…” He waved his hand in an awkward gesture to display his point rather than use words. He was never good with comforting others, though he cared deeply for his friends. ‘Why not you Bri? You’re better at that sort of thing than I am.”

“Well clearly you’re at least partly to blame for Roger being like this, Fred.” John points out, elaborating further when Freddie frowns at him. “He kept looking at you like he wasn’t sure if he should hug you or punch you in the face, clearly you’ve doing something.”

“I haven’t done anything!” Freddie exclaims indignantly, receiving a ‘shhh’ from Brian. Fred isn’t the man for the job, and he knows it, but the other two don’t waver, so he sighs.

“Fine, I’ll talk to him… This isn’t going to go well.” He pushes himself up dramatically.

“Thanks Fre-.” Brian is cut off by Roger letting out terrified yelp from the kitchen, followed by the sound of a dish shattering. The three of them look at each other in shock for a split second before jumping up and running to their friend.

“Rogger?! You alright? What's going on?”

Roger is stood facing away from the sink, his hands gripping it tight enough to turn his knuckles while. He’s breathing heavily, not quite hyperventilating, but right in the same neighborhood. His body is still and stiff, but his eyes are darting erratically around the top of the room, searching. The plate he dropped lays smashed and unnoticed at his feet.

“Rog, mate?” John speaks in a low, even tone, approaching the blonde slowly. Rogers' eyes snap to his, and for a moment there is a look of panic, but it quickly fades.

“John?” He asks, sounding unsure of himself, looking around to see the other two are also there with him. All three of them were wearing uneasy expressions. Roger blinks at them and seems to come back to himself. “Guys?”

“Roger what happened?” It’s Brain who speaks this time, his tone just as soft as Johns had been. Afraid of setting his friend into a panic again.

“Oh, uh got startled that's all.” He says, doing his best to sound convincing, glancing down at the plate with a wince. “Sorry, Freddie.”

“I don’t give a damn about the plate, darling, I just want to make sure you’re okay.” Freddie tells him, trying to keep his tone light, but he must fail because Roger winces again. Fred internally curses himself.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m okay.” He deflects, dropping to his knees to pick up the big pieces. “ Was just a..spider, that’s all.” Hei adds, hoping they don’t catch the small pause as he tries to think of something.

“A spider?” He doesn’t have to look up at Brain, he can feel the skepticism rolling off of him.

“Mhm, yeah.” He stands up, deliberately keeping his eyes down on the floor. He walks past them to the trash bin, tossing the big shards in there. They’ll need a broom for the rest. Brain waits, giving Roger a chance to speak more, but he doesn’t, so Brian does.

“Rog, you know you can always talk to us right? We’re always here for you mate.” Roger looks up at him, a smile on his face, a smile that would be much more convincing if you didn’t know him.

“Course I do.” He says, smiling at the others as well, before turning and walking away. Brain sighs heavily, glancing at the other two, their expressions mirroring his own.

Oh well, they can’t _make_ him talk to them.

He’ll come around eventually..

He always does.


	5. Chapter 4: You bloody idiot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well hello there. 
> 
> This chapter was a bitch to write. my brain was not in the mood to make words good. so it's probably shit lol. I might take a break from writing this for a little while. I'm not sure. I have ideas, my head just doesn't like to work with me sometimes. ya know? I hope you guys like this chapter. Thank you again for the support. You guys are very sweet, and I'm very happy I can entertain you with my garbage. 
> 
> <3

Roger is okay, he thinks he’s doing alright, handling the situation pretty well. Yeah, he keeps staring at Freddie which isn’t like him, but it’s really not his fault. It’s involuntary, he can’t help himself. So he corrects himself, tearing his eyes away, and hopes they don’t notice. 

They notice.

Of course they notice. 

And now they’re all watching him intently and it’s making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Can’t they see he’s not the problem? In fact, he thought he was doing pretty well. But they don’t seem to see it that way. They are all focused on him and it’s becoming too much, he’s got to find an out. 

Conveniently, he’s got four dirty plates in front of him. 

Roger hates washing dishes, he really does, but if it gets him away from these three for a bit he’s more than willing. So he gathered the plates, ignoring the way their eyes bore into him as he walked away. He shared a moment of jest with Deacy on his way out. That was nice. It felt normal. It broke through the dark haze just a bi, made Roger feel slightly more like himself.

Slightly. 

He lets his mind wander as he scrubbed, his calloused hands pruning in the soapy water. He thought of this crazy situation he’s found himself in. It was strange, that was for sure. He was conflicted and confused. Unsure if he should ambush Freddie and demand answers or hug onto him and never let go again. He wanted to be grateful to have his friend back, but did he really have his friend back? It couldn’t possibly be real, could it? 

But it felt like Freddie. It felt so real. And god, Roger wanted it to be real. He wanted his best friend back. He needed his Freddie. 

_ “Roger! You bloody idiot!”  _

Roger yelps at the voice. It sounds close, close enough he’d expect to feel a rush of breath pass him. He recognizes the voice instantly and whips around to tell Fred off for startling him. But he’s not there. Roger is completely alone. 

His breathing pricks up, his chest tightens, the plate in his hand falling carelessly to the floor. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he hears it shatter, but his focus is miles away. Occupied with trying to locate the source of the voice. It was Freddie, it had to be, but Freddie’s not here. Did he imagine it? Is he hearing things? 

Deacy’s in front of him, when did he get in here. Freddie and Brian are with him, close behind. They all look scared, why are they scared. Oh, it’s him. He probably looks a bit feral right now. He  _ feels _ a bit feral right now. 

It’s alright, everything is fine. He was just spooked that’s all. No cause for alarm. What was he spooked by? Why a spider of course, naturally. What else? Please stop staring at him like that. 

He decides not to tell them the truth. They didn’t need to know about the voice. Hearing disembodied voices was the type of thing that got a bloke locked up in a padded cell. And at this rate, they probably think he’s crazy already. 

Nope, they don’t need to know. 

He brushes off Brian’s attempt to reach out to him. What does Brian know? He’s one of the many things wrong right now. What could any of them do for him? What would he even say? 

_ “Well boys, craziest thing happened last night. Fred and I both met our untimely deaths, Fred because he’s an idiot, and me because apparently so am I. But then I woke up today, and wouldn’t you know it, I’m not dead. And neither is the other idiot. Anyone care to explain? Also, I think I’m hearing a voice.”  _

Yeah. That'd go over real well…

God. All this mess is doing his head in, it was too much for one man to think of. He needs a drink, a strong one. But considering it’s only about half nine, he’ll have to settle for a nice hot shower. Not as appealing as the alcohol, but still a relaxing thought. So he heads back to his room in the hopes of finding something to wear after. 

Bathe now. Booze later.

xxxxxx

The shower was definitely a good idea, a great one in fact. The steaming water flowing from the top of his head seemed to carry the tension in his muscles along with it. Cleaned locks of hair cling to his face, but he doesn’t bother to move them away, he does make a mental note that he needs a haircut though. He closes his eyes, leaning against the wall, pretty much content to just stand there. 

A for just a moment, he can pretend the world is standing still with him. 

But of course, time waits for no man, and soon enough, the time has come. The temperature of the water starts to drop, not significantly, but he takes it as his queue to hop out. He dries himself with one of Fred's obnoxiously fluffy towels, which is actually really nice, may luxury is a good thing sometimes. He walks past the mirror over to his clothes, stopping when something red catches his eye. 

Oh yeah, his leg. 

He looks down at his nail marks, a wave of guilt and shame running through him, and frowns. If he caught any of the other guys even thinking about hurting themselves, he’d kick their asses, and then hold them while they cried. Yet somehow, it felt less wrong now that he’d done it to himself. He was ashamed it had to come to this, but was he sorry? Did he regret doing it?

Honestly, no. 

As bad as it was, as much as he knew it was an awful thing to do, he couldn’t promise himself it was only a one time thing. He could do it again, he would do it again if he needed to anchor himself. And really, was it so bad?

What he did to his body was his own business. 


	6. Chapter 5: A bad idea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the slight delay, but here you are! This chapter is mostly filler, though it leads into more plot points for next chapter. I am not too sure how I feel about the writing of this one, but as usual I hope you enjoy. Thank you all for taking the time to read. Let me know what you think! The next chapter will be more exciting I promise. Originally this chapter was actually going to be just the intro to the events of the next chapter, but it ended up getting long so I split it up. Also side note, I might start actually naming the chapters, but idk. Also also, I just hit 500 total kudos on here, so thank you all very much <3
> 
> Does anyone even read the notes? idfk!
> 
> Enjoy!

Roger felt a chill go through him as he entered the hallway. The contrast from the steam heated bathroom to the air conditioned outside was harsher than he expected, and he cursed himself for not drying himself more thoroughly. He navigates the hallway, intent on locking himself back in his room, when he hears his bandmates talking, he hears his own name being spoken, and frowns. 

He shouldn’t eavesdrop…

He’s going to anyway. 

He gets up to the door frame, pressed against the wall, hidden from sight. 

“Are you sure you haven’t done anything, Fred? Did you and Rog have one of your little scrapes again?” Brian's voice questions, Rogers' frown deepens as he listens to Freddie's response of denial. 

It’s a reasonable enough question. Freddie and Roger's relationship does tend to lean a bit on the volatile side. They got along famously, sharing more in common than most realized. Both of them had a quick wit, a dark sense of humor, and a burning passion for music. Both were shameless flirts with undeniable stage presence, unafraid to stand their own ground no matter how strong the opposition. 

Unfortunately they also both shared the traits of a short temper, and stubbornness to an obnoxious degree. Arguments were normal in the band, they were inevitable with such a closely knit group. Brian and Deacy tended to be the quiet, brooding types, rarely escalating beyond some harsh words and dirty looks. When things got really heated between Freddie and Roger though, it usually wasn’t long before there was shouting and objects or sometimes even fists being thrown. 

To be fair though, those situations were happening less and less through the years. The little stupid comments were simply brushed off most of the time, and fights were usually short and inconsequential. The boys got better at talking rather than attacking and listening rather than assuming as they got older and more mature. 

Well, older anyway. 

“Maybe I should cancel tonight..” 

“Nah, Fred, you haven’t been out in ages, you deserve to have some fun.” Deacy reassures him, Fred was going out tonight?

“But Roger.” 

“We can look after him for a night, mate. It’ll be fine, you should go.” 

“If you’re sure..” Freddie hesitates, sounding conflicted. Rogers' curiosity grows with each word. 

“You’ve been looking forward to this all week.” Brain afrims, and the soft sound of his hand patting Fred’s shoulder can be heard. “Besides, maybe Rog will feel better after a quiet night of relaxation. And, if I’m speaking honestly, it might be a good idea to put some distance between you two whilst he works out whatever's going on in that head.” He continues, tone serious, but kind. 

Roger feels his stomach drop more and more the longer Brian talks. He feels his anxiety flaring up at the idea of Freddie being gone for the whole night. He doesn’t know if it’s really Freddie, he doesn’t know if any of this is real, but he’s not about to let the singer vanish for a full night without him. Plus he’d been wanting a drink anyway. 

So that was it, he decided in his head. He was going with Freddie tonight, maybe the others if they wanted to tag along. To where, he didn’t know, but the details didn’t feel very important. 

  
  


xxxxxxx

This was a good idea. 

The others had of course been hesitant when he suggested it. Asking him if he was sure, assuring him that none of them minded staying home with him. Wouldn’t he rather just relax at home? Wouldn’t that be nice since he’s clearly having a rough day? 

As if he was going to let Fred go out by himself. 

After he’d reassured them for at least the twelfth time that yes, he was sure, they came around to the idea. It was collectively decided that maybe a night out as a group would actually be fun. It wasn’t often they went out together, since Fred was the only one who really thrived in the club environment, so once the initial hesitation was gone, they were all looking forward to it. 

So that’s how the boys ended up at a local bar, downing beers. Well, Roger was at least, the others were more sipping than anything. Even Freddie, usually always up for a bender, had slowed down after his second beer. Rog, meanwhile, was on his fourth. Whatever, like it mattered to Roger. He was here to get drunk, never mind the others. 

“Anyone need another drink?” The drummer asks, standing up from the table, feeling just slightly off balance, earring a frown. 

“Woah, slow down mate, bars not going anywhere.” Deacy’s voice is joking, but there is real concern behind his eyes. Roger has to stop himself from rolling his eyes. 

“I came to have a good time, if you want to be boring, suit yourself.” He says the words without any heat, but he still feels a little guilty as he walks away, ignoring Brain calling his name. 

They were just trying to help, but what do they know? Who are they to tell him not to drink? He’s just lost his best friend. Or did he? He’s not really sure anymore. 

He takes a seat at the bar, wanting to be by himself, but keeping the guys within eyesight. They are watching him, frowning at him, muttering amongst themselves. He grits his teeth and orders a shot. . They are talking about him, he knows they are. Talking about what’s going on with him, why he’s acting this way, what’s wrong with him. He feels panic start to swell in his chest, because he wasn’t the problem. Or was he?

He ordered a second shot, downing it the second it’s in his fingers, relishing in the burn. The delicious pain makes its way down his throat, using it to anchor himself. The pain is there, it’s real, he can trust the pain. He waves his hand to order another.

_ “That’s enough Rog.” _ He jumps slightly at the voice of Freddie right in his ears. He looks back at the table, and Freddie is still sitting with the boys. It was that damn voice again, just more evidence he was losing his mind. He lets out a low growl from the back of his throat, quiet enough to not alert those around him, but enough to get some of his frustrations out. 

If this voice, Freddie or not, thought it any right to tell him what to do, it was in for a rude awakening. 

He ordered another shot.


	7. Chapter 6: Humor me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! 
> 
> This chapter has a bit more plot in it, so I hope you all enjoy. I know the last one was mostly filler, so I hope this makes up for it! Once again thank you all for the sweet comments. I’m so glad people enjoy this story, it’s a lot of fun to work on. 
> 
> Unrelated: In the song get down make love I will never not laugh when Fred says “I give you meat.” I just picture him in bed with someone but instead of fucking they are feeding each other chicken wings or some shit. It’s god damn hilarious. 
> 
> Anyway!

Rogers' head was fuzzy, but it still registered the pain. Truth be told, he couldn’t quite remember how he’d gotten here, what biting remark he’d made that’d pissed these gentlemen off so badly. He just remembers it felt like a great idea at the time. Especially with Freddie’s barely there voice in his head begging, demanding for him to to stop and walk away before things escalated to this point. 

Oh well, he’s here now. 

He tried to fight back, he honestly did, but that didn’t last long. It didn’t help that these guys were at least twice Rogers size. Not to mention his reflexes were slowed, his body heavy and sluggish. So eventually he gave up, closing his eyes and just taking it . 

He supposed that was he got for having five shots, or was it six? 

He was throbbing all over, could already feel the bruises forming on his pale skin. Tomorrow he’d be sore and scarred. Good. The marks would be a reminder, a reminder that this was real. The pain was an anchor. 

A fist collides with his face, again, he’s lost count of how many times that is now. He tastes blood, feels it dripping out of his nose. Surely these guys would get sick of kicking his ass soon enough. 

“Rog?!” 

That’s Freddie. Or is it mind Freddie? He doesn’t open his eyes to find out. Hands are suddenly off him, and he falls, slumping against the alley wall. Distantly he heard the sounds of fists flying, groans and swears, and the threat of cops being called. He mostly tunes it out, finding it difficult to focus on anyway. 

A hand grabs his shoulder, and he flinches slightly with what strength he has. 

“Rog?” There’s Fred’s voice again, gentle and desperate, but attracted to flesh this time. Roger opens his eyes and finds the singer crouched in front of him, eyes full of concern, brimming with tears. “My god Roger are you alright? You almost gave me a bloody heart attack! What the hell were you thinking?! Let you out of my sight for one minute and you get yourself beaten bloody!” He rambles on frantically. 

“I had ‘em on the ropes.” Roger mumbles out, lips feeling sore and swollen. Freddie stares at him for a moment, before bursting out a laugh that sounds involuntary and slightly hysterical. He lets out a giant exhale collapsing next to the drummer, resting his head against the wall behind him. 

For a moment or two they sit in silence, Freddie taking a few deep breaths to calm himself now that he knew Roger was somewhat okay. Roger feels himself relaxing too, letting himself feel normal for a moment, ignoring his aches. Freddie is by his side, that’s what’s important right now. 

“How are you, Fred?” He asks, voice rough, wincing slightly as he turns his head towards the singer. 

“What? You wanna talk about me? Now?” Freddie cocks one of his eyebrows up to the sky, incredulous but amused at the same time. Roger paused, he supposed it was a bit ridiculous, but he didn’t care. He just wanted to feel normal for a moment. 

“Yeah.” He mumbles, words slurring slightly, though less than you’d expect. He’s had plenty of practice faking his sobriety. Many nights where he’d had one too many beers but still had to get on stage and act normal. “ Humor me, man, how are you?” 

Freddie looks at him for a moment, deliberation clear on his eyes, before he shakes his head, a small smile forming on his lips. 

“I’m good, Rog, just worried about you mate. Really worried. You haven’t been yourself all day,”

“I’m fi-.”

“You can say you’re fine or play it off as just being an off day, but i know that’s bullshit.” The singer cuts him off, speaking in a kind but serious tone, holding Rogers eye contact. He waits for the blonde to speak but continues when he doesn’t, voice gentle. “What's going on in that head of yours. Blondie?” 

Roger closes his eyes, shaking his head. It’s too much, he can’t think properly with all the booze running through him, not that he’d find this conversation any easier sober. 

“I can’t..” 

“Please, Rog, Please talk to me. I care about you, I just want to help, we all do.” Freddie isn’t the best at these kinds of talks, usually opting to let Deacy or Brian take the reins, but Roger appreciates the effort anyway. Suddenly Freddie gasps, jumping to his feet. “Shit!” We split up when we didn’t see you, the others are probably tearing their hair out right now. We gotta find them, can you walk?” 

“Course I can.” Roger doesn’t really think he can, but lifts his arm up for help anyway. Freddie hefts him up with a grunt from both men, and he wobbles. He feels like shit and can barely stand, though he tried his best. 

“Woah, steady, steady. You good?” Freddie holds his arms out for Roger to take, which he does. He attempts to take a step, stopping abruptly when his stomach lurches. He bends to the side and projectile vomits all the content in his stomach into the dirty street. 

When he comes back up, Freddie places a hand on his bicep, holding him somewhat still. He stares at Roger, eyes wide and concerned. Roger shakes in his arms, trying to focus on him but failing, the world around him growing darker. 

“Rog?” 

“Fred.. Fred I think I’m.. I’m gonna…” He gets out roughly and barely comprehensible before his legs give out and collapses right on top of Freddie. Freddie catches him, but is thrown off balance and falls to his knees with a swear. 

“Shit! Roger? Rog?!” He shakes the unconscious blonde in his arms, not getting anything in response, but feeling that he’s still breathing steadily. He frantically looks around, calling to anyone who might be within earshot.”Help! Please! Somebody call an ambulance!” 

He stares down at his friend as someone approaches the pair, asking what’s happened and what they need to call the ambulance for. Freddie takes a shaky breath, seeing the state of his friend. 

“I’m gonna help you through this Rog, whatever it takes. You’re gonna get through this. I promise.” He whispers determinantly, eyes misting up, and waits for the paramedics to arrive.


	8. Chapter 7: Keep your voice down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Buckle tf up this is gonna be a long note, but I would greatly apreciate if you took the time to read it. 
> 
> This chapter is terrible. Seriously. Completely trash. I am god awful at dialog at the best of times, and even more so on bad days. I'm so sorry for subjecting you to this. Basically my anxiety and depression are kicking my ass today and I wrote this as a distraction from my own head. I don't have it in me to make it any better right now, so apologies. I didn't want to leave you guys with nothing to read. I'm trying to keep up with daily updates as much as I can. I hope you guys don't mind. 
> 
> In other news, I wanted to say in regards to the timeline, I am not going to specify age in this story. You can see the boys at whatever age/point in the timeline you want. I realize that the way I was writing them was probably a bit confusing as it when exactly everything was taking place. I was going to rewrite some things and make it more clear, but again, I don't really have the mental capacity to do that right now. So you get to pick, whatever you like! If you wanna see it as 70's roger with 80's Freddie go for it! Theres is not wrong answer lol. 
> 
> Another thing I want to take a moment to say it, I truly hope all of you are staying safe. Not only just with Covid 19, but now with all the riots and looting. I know everything seems scary and chaotic, and we need to band together in these hard times. You're all wonderful and amazing and capable and valid, I believe in all of you if it means anything. <3 
> 
> Thank you all so much for the support, my head is not a fun place to be sometimes, and you're sweet words really do make me feel better. I apreciate you all so much. Even if all did was ask for more chapters, it still brightened my day. 
> 
> By the way, happy pride month. 
> 
> Okay! shutting up now! 
> 
> <3 <3 <3

“Taylor party?” 

Freddie isn’t usually jumpy, but he’s so tense that he nearly combusts when he hears the nurse calling from the doorway. Three sets of eyes snap over to her, all of the boys jumping up and rushing over. 

“How is he?”  
“Is he alright?”  
“What’s going on?” 

All three voices ring out at once, coming out in frantic mess that is just barely decipherable. The nurse, a young woman with kind eyes, raises her hand up, effectively silencing them. 

“Your friend is just fine.” He tells them with a reassuring smile. “He's going to be back to normal in no time.” 

They all ignore the tightening in their chests at those words, because would he? The alcohol would wear off, but would this funk he’s been in? 

“Can we see him?” Brian asks, the others perk up, hopeful. 

“He’s resting right now, better not to disturb him.” 

“Please? We won’t wake him.” Freddie pleads, the nurse studies their faces, looking conflicted. “

“We’re just worried about him.” Deacy adds, and the nurse sighs, but nods. 

“Very well, come with me.” 

She leads them down a maze of hallways and corridors, the band following eagerly at her heels. She said roger was okay, but they wanted to see for themselves. The travel past countless rooms, before finally stopping before one. She turns to them before entering. 

“He’s asleep, so keep quiet.” She says, polite but firm, they all nod their agreement, and she opens the door. They shuffle in, and gaze upon their friend. Fred bites his lip, Brian gasps, and John's face twists into a frown. 

Rogers' face is bruised and looks in rough shape. There is dry blood crusting up around his nose and by his lip. His lips are swollen, tinged darker red than usual. The cuts and scrapes look even more pronounced against his pale complexion. His breathing is even, features relaxed. He has an IV tube sticking out of his left arm, heart monitor beeping steadily next to him. 

“I thought you said he was fine! What’s that doing in his arm?” Freddie asks, feeling frantic but managing to keep his voice low in tone. Or at least he thought he did. 

“You need to calm down, Sir, or I’m going to ask you to wait in the lobby.” She fixes him with a stern look, unwilling to compromise her patient's recovery due to an emotional outburst. “I understand it’s difficult to see your friend in such a state, but it’s important that he gets proper rest. So please, contain yourself.” Freddie holds up his hands in surrender. 

“Apologies ma’am, as you said, it’s difficult to see him like this .” He says in an attempt to appease her. She studies him for a moment and her face softens. 

“It’s alright, love. He’s alright, I promise, no serious damage. The IV is just fluids to help with the hangover tomorrow, and some anti nausea medication to make sure he doesn’t vomit and asphyxiate.” She explains calmly, some of the anxiety dissipating from the room, but not much.”He’s just sleeping it off, he’ll be just fine.” 

“Can we sit with him until he wakes up?” Brain asks, hopefully, she smiles kindly at him. 

“You’ll be in for a long night, it’s going to be at least a few hours. You’d probably be more comfortable at home, we can call you when he wakes up.” He shakes his head, his curls bouncing. 

“We don’t mind, we want to stay, please.” 

“Alright, I won’t stop you, but no waking him up, he needs rest.” She emphasizes again, pointing to a red button beside Rogers bed. “Just push this button if he wakes up, or if you need me at all.” 

And then, they were alone with Roger’s unconscious form. He does look softer than usual, all of his features smoothed out and relaxed completely. If it wasn’t for the state of his face and the hospital setting, he’d almost look peaceful. Deacy is the first one to speak. 

“Fred what happened?” Freddie had given them a brief synopsis, but not much detail. He takes a few seconds to collect his thoughts, and speaks. He gives them the full rundown, how he’d wandered out to find the drummer being beaten to a pulp, the way he’d collapsed. The shock, the anxiety, the fear. 

“I thought my heart was going to stop. He just stood there and took it, he didn’t even fight back. It was like.. Like he wanted it or something.” He recounts, voice barely above a whisper, starting at the blonde with distressed eyes. 

“Oh Rog..” Brain's voice sounds wounded, he reaches out to grab his friends hand but stops himself, not wanting to wake him up. “We’re going to get him through this.” He says, looking both of his bandmates in the eye, bristling with determination. “Whatever state he’s in when he wakes up, we’re going to stitch him back together.” 

Nobody speaks, but everyone agrees wholeheartedly. They’d do whatever it took to get Roger back on his feet, in every sense. 

xxxxxxx

What is this place? 

Roger has never been here before, he’d remember if he had. It’s unfamiliar, but not the sort of place that’s easily forgotten. Having said that, there’s not much to it. Surrounding Roger is a dark expanse, reaching as far as the eye can see.

It’s like he’s in a dark, empty room, except completely different. 

For one thing, it seems to go on forever. Roger feels as though he’s been wandering for ages, and he’s yet to find a wall or edge or end of any kind. The empty space also doesn’t feel empty. Every moment he can feel something cool and silky against his skin. There’s nothing there, but the sensation is everywhere, like the air itself is textured. It’s an odd, but admittedly pleasant experience. 

He doesn’t know where he is, but he’s not overly anxious to leave. It’s a nice, calm place.  
Not exciting, but he could get used to it. He wonders, not for the first time, if this is afterlife, or perhaps a dream of some kind.

“Hello, darling.” 

Oh. Voice Freddie is back, which is odd, but fine. He doesn’t mind the company. He doesn’t mind the company. It would almost certainly get lonely, exploring this space by himself for whatever length of time he’d be stuck here. He nearly jumps out of his skin when a hand taps him on the shoulder. He whips around, and there he is, the man whose goal seems to be making roger lose his damn mind. A soft smile on his face, he glances down, looking almost shy for a moment, before he meets Rogers eyes. 

“We should probably talk.”


	9. Chapter 8: The inbetween.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aight so!
> 
> I wasn't planning on getting this chapter done so soon, but here we are. This is a very dialog heavy chapter, but for once I actually feel like the dialog is okay? I don't hate it for once! Curious to know what you guys think. Anyway, this chapter offers some explanation as to what's actually happening, without giving to much away. There is mention of afterlife, but I am not going to go into specifics with it. So just like with the boys age, you can choose whatever details you like for that aspect of the story. 
> 
> I think that's all I gotta say. Thank you all for continuing to support my story, I love you all!

“Fred?” 

“Hey, Rog.” 

Roger is stunned into silence as he stares at the man before him. Freddie, his Freddie. He didn’t know how he knew, but he did, he was absolutely sure. He held out for about three seconds before launching himself into the singer's arms. 

“Freddie!” He cries out, feeling like a child, but not caring in the slightest. Strong arms wrap around him and he’s pulled against a warm chest, hugged closely to Freddie. Tears prick his eyes as he feels a hand running through his hair. 

“Shh, I know love, I know.” Freddie whispers to him causing him to whimper and try to press himself tighter against the older man. “It’s alright.”

It takes several minutes for Roger to calm down enough to take a small step back, though, he makes sure to keep some level of contact up. He looks the brunette up and down, taking him in, mind buzzing, but unsure of what to say. 

“I thought you were dead.” He says, voice wavering slightly but coming out mostly steady as he looks Freddie in the eyes. 

“Oh, I am dear.” Freddie says with a dismissive wave, the detail seeming unimportant to him. Roger continues to stare at him.

“What...what are you a ghost or something?” He asks, really trying to wrap his brain around what’s going on but not quite reaching clarity. Freddie offers him a gentle smile. 

“Or something. Think of me as your guardian angel of sorts, dear.” 

“Freddie what?” 

“I can’t say too much about it, I’m afraid, they’re very uptight about rules on the other side.” Roger blinks at him.

“Other side, what other side?” 

“Spoilers, darling.” Freddie says with a wink. “You’ll know when it’s your time to know.” 

Roger tries to press for more answers, but Freddie doesn’t budge. Eventually, Rogers' anxiety drops low enough that he feels okay to take another step back. Though he’s still close enough to feel Fred’s presence beside him.

“What is this place?” He asks, Freddie hesitates as if he’s unsure if he should answer the question, but relents under Roger’s quizzical gaze. 

“The inbetween. The space between the worlds.” 

“Worlds?” 

“Spoilers, love.” Freddie says with a smile and a shake of his head. 

Roger sighs, deciding to change the subject. He had more pressing questions to get to anyway. 

“What’s going on Freddie? What is any of this?” He waves his hand in a slightly awkward gesture that he hopes will emphasize his point. “How did I get here? Why are you a voice in my head? Who is that other you? Why don’t the others know?” Freddie raises his hand effectively shutting up rogers babble. 

“Slow down, Rog, one question at a time, yes?” The blonde nods, so he continues. “You’re here because I brought you here. I, uh, well, kidnapped you in a manner of speaking. I took you from that awful place you were in and I brought you here. This,” He waves his hand in the same gesture Roger had made. “Is a gift. My gift to you, because of all the pain I caused you. Another life, another chance to be happy.” His voice trails off at the end, looking slightly guilty. He clears his throat and continues on. 

“I’m a voice in your head because I’m looking out for you. I’m trying to help you adjust to your new life. I’m sorry for all the times I startled you. Bringing you here took more energy than I was expecting and I’ve only been able to make fleeting appearances, but I’ll pop up to check in on you more and more. Make sure you’re not doing anything… stupid.” 

His eyes trail down to Rogers' thigh, features darkening. Roger looks down, unable to meet Freddies eye. A finger on his chin tilts his head back up, and he’s met with a very stern looking Freddie. 

“Be good to yourself, love. You’ve been given a second chance, don’t throw it away.” He says, voice gentle, though there's fire behind his eyes. Roiger bites his lip to keep it from wobbling. He has nothing to say, no words to justify actions. A tear slips down his face, and Freddie pulls him close once again. “Oh, sweetheart.” 

Roger takes in a shaky breath, burying his face in the other's chest, speaking with a small, miserable voice. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, god Freddie I’m sorry.” 

“It’s alright, love, it’s alright.” 

“I’m just so overwhelmed. I feel like I don’t know anything anymore. I don’t even know what’s real, if any of it is.” He curls in close to the singer, feeling the comfort he so desperately didn’t know he needed. Crying openly, allowing himself to be held. 

“It’s very real, darling” Roger pushes back to look at Freddie in the eyes, teary blue meeting steady brown. 

“How do I know  _ you’re _ even real? That this isn’t all some crazy, inexplicable dream?”

“Trust me?” Fred suggests, giving Roger a small squeeze of comfort. “And trust the others. Listen to them, Rog. They care about you, as do I. They mean well.” Roger groans, pressing close again. 

“They’re driving me insane. Especially Freddie, the other Freddie, I don’t know how the hell to feel about him. Or what he even is” 

“He’s me.” Freddie shrugs, Roger shakes his head vehemently. 

“No, he’s not. He’s different. I can’t explain it, but he’s not the same, he’s not you.” 

“A car is still a car no matter the color it’s painted. It may appear different, but it’s still the same car underneath. We’re the same, you’ll see.” Roger tries to disagree, but Freddie pulls back to look at him. “I’m afraid we’re out of time love. It’s time for you to go back now.” 

“No!” Roger cries out, trying to cling tighter, but Freddie is fading away, the dark world is fading, it’s like he’s falling asleep. “Wait, Freddie, don’t go. Please don’t leave me.” Freddie's voice sounds much farther away when he speaks again, giving Roger once final squeeze. 

“I’ll still be with you, darling. I’ll always be with you, even when you can’t see me. Listen out for me, I’ll be there.” Roger fights with every fiber of his being, but it’s useless his, the world is fading, he’s falling asleep. 

Except he’s not. He’s waking up. 


	10. Chapter 9: Always, darling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I am sorry for the slight delay with this chapter. It gave me a lot of trouble. I am also back to hating the writing in this one lmao. But as usual I hope you all like it! This is another filler chapter I’m so sorry. Also I’m sorry this one has so many time skips, it was hard to focus lol. 
> 
> Also the dialog at the beginning of this chapter is a blatant rip off of age of ultron cause its funny lmao 
> 
> Love y’all, enjoy.

Deacy pushed open the door to the hospital room, carefully carrying three cups of coffee. Freddie and Brian are sat slumped over in their chairs, exhausted but unwilling to leave in case Roger wakes up. Brain has his eyes closed, but Freddie spots John, making grabby hands at the coffee. 

“How is he?” Deacy asks with a nod to the sleeping blonde once everyone has a steaming cup in their hands. “Any change?” 

“Unfortunately, he’s still Roger.” Freddie says somberly after a long swig of his coffee. Deacy frowns. 

“Wow. That’s terrible.” 

“Sod off...” A rough voice croaks out. Three sets of eyes snap to the bed. 

“Rog?” They all scramble to his bedside, hands grabbing his own. 

“How ya feeling, mate?” Brian asks softly as he blinks the world back into focus. 

“Tired.” He stretches out his stiff muscles and winces. The parts of him aren’t aching are few and far between. “Sore.” 

“Serves you right, git.” Freddie says, playfully crossing his arms over his chest, turning to the others. “Shoulda seen the size of those blokes.” 

“Piss off, Fred.” Roger says sassily, an obviously fake scowl on his face. 

Freddie’s mouth splits into a wide grin. There’s a collective relief over the band. Things aren’t fixed just like that of course, but it’s encouraging to hear Rog sounding like his old self. 

“We should inform the nurse you’ve woken up.” Brian says, sounding tired but relatively happy. 

“‘Kay…” Roger mumbles, eyes slipping closed, perfectly content to sleep for a few more hours. 

“Oh no, you’re up now, you’re staying up.” Deacy gives him a gentle shake, but it still makes him wince, worsening the everpresent ache. “Shit! Sorry Rog.” He scrambles to apologize, he should’ve thought it through more. 

“‘It’s fine Deacs.” Rogers' smile is a little forced from the pain, but otherwise genuine. “It’s my own fault. And you’re right, I should probably get up anyway.” 

He’s not enjoying being in pain, but he can’t say regrets last night, what he remembers of it anyway. He knows he got into a fight, and possibly puked on Freddie or something, though he’s fuzzy on the details. One thing he knows for sure though, is that last night was real. It happened and he has the bruises to prove it. It’s one thing he can hold onto, and he clings to it like a lifeline. 

They sit in silence for a moment before Brian once again offers to call the nurse in. 

xxxxx 

“Alright mister Taylor, I think we’re just about done here.” The nurse says, finally, after what felt like ages. She’d been asking questions, having Roger perform simple tasks, just to be sure he was okay to go home. “You’re free to go.” 

“Oh, great.” Roger answered, putting as much enthusiasm into it as he could, which wasn’t much considering he was still tired and sore and slightly hungover. It also didn’t help that his mind wasn’t particularly in the moment, too much else to focus on:

“I want you to take it easy for the rest of the day. No more street fights, you hear me?” She asks the blonde sternly, who holds up his hands in submission. 

“Yes ma’am.” 

“Oh, and maybe take it easy on the drink next time.” She adds less seriously, turning to leave. 

“Thank you, for everything, for taking care of our friend.” Brian exclaims after her, she turns back to them, expression soft. 

“No need to thank me, dear, that’s what I’m here for. Keeping people well is what gets me out of bed in the morning.” She says kindly, checking her watch. “Coincidentally, my shift is about to end, so it looks like I’ll be going home to rest now too. Gentlemen.” She gives them all a nod, flashing a tired smile, and leaves them. 

“So are we ready then?” 

“Yeah, just as soon as Rog gets his trousers on.”

xxxxxx 

The cab ride home wasn’t a long one, though it felt like hours. Deacy and Brian fell asleep slumped against one another. Freddie, eyelids drooping, kept mumbling about some new song he was writing, though his words were soft and not exactly coherent. Roger stared out the window, watching the scenery pass, letting his mind wander. 

Was it all a dream? 

There wasn’t anyway he had actually been talking to Freddie, his Freddie, was there? 

“Here ya are, lads.” The cabbie said in his thick Scottish accent. 

Roger blinked, snapping back to attention, reaching over to wake his bandmates up. They woke with a start, taking a moment to take in their surroundings. Once everyone was more or less awake they paid the driver and shuffled into the house. 

The four boys made vague waving motions at each other while they made their ways to their respective rooms. Nobody really awake enough to actually converse with the others. Roger was the most together, which spoke volumes considering he was still quite wobbly on his feet. 

As he reached his room he heard Freddie grumbling something about not being tired, but he didn’t respond. He slipped his trousers back down his legs, flopping on his oversized bed, intending to take a nice long nap even though he’d barely woken up an hour ago. 

It took him all of about ten seconds to realize he wasn’t going to be able to shut his brain up. He tossed, trying different positions, all perfectly comfortable, but not enough to put him under. 

It was a dream. It had to be. None of it was real, that’s the only way any of this made logical sense. He just had to make sure he kept track of what was real and what wasn’t. 

The booze: real. 

The fight: real.

Dream Freddie: not real. 

That’s all there was to it. 

So why did his stomach drop at the idea of him not being real, but a figment of his own imagination? Well, because it wasn’t fair. He had gotten his friend back, for just a moment, and dammit he wanted it to be real

But now he had to let it go and face reality. It just wasn’t fair. 

He flips onto his back, running his fingers through his hair, ignoring the pain in his sore muscles. Letting out a sigh, he determined that he had to be out of his mind for what he was about to do. 

“Fred..?” He half called, half whispered to the ceiling, feeling his stomach twist anxiously as he waited. “Freddie, you there?” 

For a moment, nothing happened. He rolled onto his side, burrowing into his pillow, eyes closed tightly. It was a stupid idea anyway, and he shouldn’t have actually expected anything. But then, suddenly. 

_ “Always, darling.”  _

Came the soft, warm, reassuring voice in his head. He gasped a shaky breath as some of the tension in his chest alleviated. 

He fell asleep with a faint smile on his face. 

  
  
  



	11. Authors note

Hi. 

I’m at work rn so I can’t really type too much 

I deleted the new chapter because I absolutely hated it. The more I thought about it the more I hated it tbh. Just ugh. I’m really awful sometimes. 

I’m not sure if I’m gonna continue this or not honestly. I’m kind of at war with my head at the moment. Staying focused and motivated is proving more and more difficult. I would like to keep going. But I don’t wanna write just for the sake of writing I want it to actually be something you guys will enjoy if that makes any type of sense. 

Thank you for all the sweet comments. And I’m so sorry to spring this on all of you. I am taking a break from this Story for a while and hopefully I’ll be able to write again soon. 

Love you all


	12. Chapter 10: A worse idea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!
> 
> First order of business, thank you all so much for the support. I was in a bad spot and I wasn't sure if I was going to keep writing this. I really apreciate all the encouragement, but more than that, the understanding. The understanding that sometimes I have to put my mental health first. Brains are annoying like that lol. You're all so amazingly sweet and supportive and it's just so unexpected and overwhelming. Thank you all so much. <3
> 
> So obviously, I'm back. I was struggling with how to go about continuing this. I randomly felt motivation today, so I sat down to work and ended up getting a chapter out of it. So I've decided, I am just going to work on this when motivation strikes me. Unfortunately, that means I'm not sure how often chapters will be up. So I hope you guys are willing to keep being amazing and patient with me.
> 
> Anyway, I don't think this one is too bad? It's kind of filler kind of not. I don't know lol you guys can decide for yourselves. Do let me know what you think! I love you guys. I don't say enough. You're all wonderful and sweet. 
> 
> <3 <3 <3

It had been a long day, and it wasn’t even over yet. 

Freddie was the last one to hit the sack, waiting to make sure all the others were sorted out before himself, mother hen that he was. He stayed put, stubbornly declaring himself not tired, though he felt like a zombie. When he eventually pulled himself into bed, he was out in less than a minute. 

He was up and on his feet again after a few hours of dreamless sleep brushing off the fatigue still pulling at his bones. Knowing he could easily nap more, but refusing to sleep the whole day away. Once he was showered and fed, still having the house kind of to himself; he found himself in front of the piano. 

The piece of paper in front of him was soon covered in scribbles and doodles as he poured his jumbled thoughts onto it. He could feel the tension in himself relaxing as he let his fingers do as they pleased. Playing, but not really trying to find a melody yet. 

His mind wandered back to the previous night, back to Roger. He wondered how the blonde would be faring today, if there would be any change. He had seemed more like himself after waking up in the hospital, that was promising. Maybe it was just a bad day, though Freddie wasn’t exactly optimistic about that. 

But he’d be there for his friend, either way. 

“That’s lovely, what is that?” Speak of the devil. 

“It isn’t anything yet, darling. It will be a song soon enough.” Freddie informs him, reaching out to scribble on the paper some more. Roger bends over the table to look at it, curiously. He studies it for a moment before chuckling. 

“How’s one even supposed to read this, let alone understand this, Fred?” 

“It makes perfect sense to me.” Freddie says with a shrug. His song meanings were his own, and others were more than free to make their own. Roger laughs beside him. 

“Does it have a title yet?” 

“Not yet, but it’ll come to me.” Roger lets out a soft humming noise, setting the paper back down. Freddie, deciding to put the song writing on hold temporarily to focus on his friend, turns to Roger. He has to stop himself from wincing at the state of his friend, he’d almost forgotten about the damage that had been done. “How are you feeling Rog?” 

“Alright, still sore but better. Napping was a good idea.” The blonde smiles, stretching, only flinching slightly. “Be perfect soon. What about you?

“Me? I was never in trouble to begin with, love.” 

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I can’t be concerned about my mate.” He says the words playfully, but they strike annoyance in the singer. There was Roger, deflecting it back to Freddie again. Why did he keep doing that? Freddie was fine, Roger was the one clearly going through something, refusing to let anyone in. 

“So you can fret over me, and I’m supposed to just go along with it, but you won’t even try to tell me what’s on your mind.” He says, more bitterly than he meant to. . 

“It was just a rough day that's all...” 

“Then talk to me Roger! That’s what friends are for!” His voice raises before he even notices himself getting worked up. He’s just frustrated, but unfortunately it comes across as him being angry at Roger. He expects Roger to get pissed, to push back at him, but he doesn’t. 

  
  


“What’s going on in here?” Freddie’s head snaps over to the door where Deacy is watching the two of them, face full of concern. Roger just shrugs, still smiling, though his eyes are on the floor now. He takes a shaky breath, speaking quietly, a single tear drop falling to the carpet. 

  
  


“Sorry, Fred. I really am.” 

And then he’s gone, back to his room probably, but gone. And Freddie feels like the biggest piece of shit in the world. His friend had needed him, and he’d gone and shouted at him. 

Nice one, Mercury…

  
  


“Roger! Rog wait!” He calls, turning to run after the blonde, coming face to face with a furious looking Deacy. 

“Freddie what the hell was that?” He exclaims angrily. “What did you do?” 

“I...I fucked up Deacks..” Freddie admits, hanging his head in shame. “I fucked up.”

xxxxxx

Roger passes a mess of curly hair on his way back to his room. Brian waves at him, still rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Roger gives him a nod, but keeps his head down to keep his tears hidden. Brian tries to stop him, calling him as he walks past, but he marches determinedly on. 

He doesn’t deserve their comfort. 

He shuts and locks his door, sliding down to the floor slowly. Barely managing to get a breath out before he falls into desperate sobs. Sobs of overwhelming frustration, the icy black cloud in his mind all consuming.

This isn’t him, he isn’t this person. He isn’t someone who runs away from their problems, who cries just because they were told off. He doesn’t know how he became this weak, but he hates it. He hates himself. He hates who he’s becoming, but he’s powerless to stop it. 

He stands, ripping off his trousers, unsure if what he’s about to do qualifies as just anchoring himself, and unsure if that even matters anymore. He’s doing it. He has to. 

_ “Don’t, please don’t love.”  _ Fred’s voice pleads in his head, and add that to the list of everything wrong with Roger at the moment. Hearing voices, icing on the cake. “ _ Just go back and talk to the others. It doesn’t even have to be me. Go hangout with Deacy or Brian. It’s going to be okay.”  _

“Stop me then.” Roger challenges the cleaning through his tears. “Prove you’re real, stop me.” 

_ “I can’t interfere in your world, it’s incredibly hard work just speaking to you!”  _ Freddie's voice grows more desperate, and also more faint.  _ “Roger, please, you don’t have to do this!”  _

“Yes.” Roger growls out, selecting a patch of skin on his left leg, just above the previous marks of is fingernails. “I do.” 

And this time, he isn’t going to go easy on himself. 


	13. Chapter 11: I'm right here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ayyyo
> 
> Thank you so much for all the love on the last chapter, and in general. You guys are probably sick of hearing this by now, but I love you. Your comments really make me happy. Thank you for continuing to support me <3
> 
> Anyway, this chapter is pretty fluffy, and it's a tiny bit longer than usual, also mostly filler. I have mixed feelings about it. I like parts of it, but I'm not a huge fan over all. I'm curious about what you guys think. Also curious to see yall's reaction to the ending lmao. 
> 
> I think that's it! I'm not sure when the next chapter will be done, but hopefully soon. Love you guys <3

Freddie was in the middle of getting a stern talking to from John when Brian entered the room. He was still a bit sleepy, still scratching his curly head over Roger’s behavior. Freddies usually sharp silver tongue was absent, his head hung in submission as the bassist reprimanded him. Neither of them seem to notice, or acknowledge Brian. 

“What were you thinking?” 

“I’m sorry! I was stupid, I know!”

“What’s going on?” Brain steps forward, John twisting sort of sideways, making way for him to be part of the conversation. He gives John a small smile of thanks, turning back to Freddie. “What did you do?” 

“Our dear Freddie thought it would be a wonderful idea to shout at Roger.” Deacy speaks before the singer can, voice laced with annoyance. Brian frowns. 

“Fred, why would you..?” 

“I’m sorry!” Freddie exclaims, throwing his hands up, running them through his hair. “I didn’t mean to! I’m just so frustrated. My best friend is struggling and in pain and I can’t do anything about it!” Freddie sighs, speaking softer, looking down. “I just feel so useless.” 

Deacys face softens, he places a hand on Fred’s shoulder. Freddie doesn’t let this vulnerability show frequently, so when he does, the others are sure to treat it gently. Brian’s frown deepens, he goes to speak, but John beats him to it. 

“I know Fred, I know, it’s been hard on all of us.” He says, giving the singer a comforting squeeze. “Seeing your family hurting is never an easy thing, I get it, mate. But this isn’t about us, it’s about Roger. He needs us right now, so we’re going to keep it together. For his sake.” 

By the time John is done speaking Freddie’s eyes are down on the carpet again, looking like a guilty child. He lets out a long, slow breath, looking back up at the others with a frown. 

“You’re right, Deacs, you’re right. I better go apologize.” 

“Actually, Fred, you might want to wait.” Brian cuts in, the others looking at him curiously. “I just saw Rog in the hallway, he looked pretty upset, maybe give him some space. Just for a bit.” 

“But..” 

“Think of it this way, you can spend some time clearing your head, and thinking about what you wanna say.” John offers, and Freddie sighs in defeat. It would probably be a good idea for him to go into this with a plan anyway, to keep things from escalating again. 

“Alright fine, fine. I’ll wait.” 

xxxxxxx

A little bit ended up being a little bit longer than expected. 

John and Brian once again gently suggested that maybe Roger and Freddie needed some time apart, and Fred reluctantly agreed. He really didn’t understand, everything was fine, at least he thought they were. Everyone in the band, including himself and Roger, had been on excellent terms just days ago. And now it was like the drummer was struggling to even be in his vicinity. 

He must have done something, but what, he had no idea. 

He wanted to reach out to his friend and ask, to try and fix the rift growing between them. But the other reined him in, reminding him that they were giving Roger space. Roger would come to Freddie, or one of the others, when he was good and ready. 

Pushing him usually never garnered the desired result. 

So, feeling a bit shitty, he allowed them to occupy his time throughout the day. Between cooking with John, scrabble with Brian, and song writing, he stayed clear of Roger. None of the others saw much of the blonde either, but they didn’t think much of it. Deacy claimed to have run into him, and reassured him that they were all here for him, but apparently he brushed that off, insisting he was fine. So Freddie just kept himself occupied. 

It wasn’t until later that night that the two encountered again. 

Freddie was making his way back to his own room, ready to call it a day. He usually stayed up later than this, but he was running on considerably less sleep today, so he decided to turn in early. He bids Brian and Deacy goodnight, but he’s stopped before he makes it back to his room, by the sound of his own name being called faintly. 

“Freddie..” 

He whips back around, seeing which one of them was calling him back, but the others were already gone. He blinks, but shrugs it off, his sleep deprived brain had probably just imagined it. But then it happened again. 

“No…. Freddie.” 

It takes him a moment to place that the voice belongs to Roger. He steps up close to Rogers door, and sure enough there it is again. 

“Freddie!” Roger sounds distressed, almost like he’s crying. Freddie almost enters, but stops himself, remembering he was supposed to be keeping his distance. 

“Rog?” He calls softly “Darling are you okay?” Another cry of his own name is the only response he gets. He stops himself, but concern for his friend wins out over hesitation, and he enters the room. 

“Roger?” Freddie speaks softly, Roger is laying on the bed, facing away from him, he doesn’t want to startle him. He doesn’t get a response. “Rog?” 

Maybe he’s sleeping? He takes a step closer, and finds that the blonde isn’t just laying there, he’s shaking. Freddie bites his lip and walks around to the other side, trying his best to be quiet, and his theory is confirmed. Roger is sleeping, and appears to be having a nightmare. He’s curled up, body tense and shaking, a thin layer of sweat formed on his temple. 

“Freddie!” He calls out miserably, and Freddies heard nearly splits in two. Roger is having a nightmare about him. 

“Roger, it’s okay.” He speaks softly, gently grabbing Rogers hand. “I’m here, love, I’m here.” His voice barely above a whisper, unsure of what to do, but wanting to provide any kind of comfort he can. It’s apparently the right thing to do though, because Roger seems to relax a bit, his shaking calming. Freddie smiles sadly at his friend, spending a few moments whispering soft reassurances. 

When he turns to leave however, he finds that his hand is still being held. At first he thinks the blonde must have woken up, but no, his eyes are still closed, though he looks much less happy now. Freddie tries to pull away, but Roger is still weakly holding on to him. 

“Rog..” He hesitates. He can’t very well spend the whole night here. 

“Fred…” 

On second thought, maybe he can. Roger needs him, even if he’s unconscious, who is Fred to deny him. The bed is certainly big enough, and it’s not like they’ve never shared a bed before. Living in each other's back pockets on tour, you make due. Plus it’s not like Roger will care, right? He’s never been weird about personal space.

Fuck it, Freddie thinks, it’s just for one night. 

He lets go of Rogers' hand, who lets out a pitiful whimper, which makes him hesitate, but he pushes on. The sooner he’s out of his trousers, cause there's no way he’s sleeping in jeans, the sooner he can get back to bed. He slips them off, and climbs in next to the blonde, who’s resumed shaking. 

“Freddie…” 

“I’m-” He’s cut off when Roger whimpers again. 

“Come back…” 

And if that doesn’t just shatter the singers heart. He scoots closer, wrapping his arms around Roger, and pulling him close. They hadn’t really done this before, but he doesn’t care. He needs to comfort his best friend, toxic masculinity be damned. 

“I’m here, darling, I’m here. “ He whispers to the trembling man in his arms. Roger whines, and somehow subconsciously clings on, though his grip is weak. Freddie holds him tighter, and continues whispering. “Shhh, I’m right here, love. I’m not going anywhere.” 

He places a kiss on the blondes temple. 

They stay like that, both refusing to let the other go. Roger is mostly calm, though occasionally, he starts whining again, though Fred is quick to shush him with soft words and gentle squeezes. Freddie thought it might be awkward, but it’s actually nice being tangled up against another's body. It’s cozy and comforting, and Roger seems to agree. 

Eventually, both men fall into a peaceful sleep, still clinging to each other. The last thought on Fred’s mind is that platonic cuddling should definitely be a thing from now on, because Roger makes a great teddy bear.


	14. Chapter 11.5: Dust.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bet you weren't expecting me so soon!
> 
> Don't get too excited, this is 100% pure filler. oof. So I’ve decided that this isn’t officially chapter 12 yet. It’s like a step in between. That probably makes no sense but whatever lmao
> 
> Basically, without getting into details, my life is going to be very stressful for the foreseeable future. Things are happening and they aren't necessarily good things. It's just a lot, especially when you already have fucked mental health. So I wrote this to distract myself from my own life. It's a tiny bit short, and it's not that well written, but I hope maybe one person will enjoy it!
> 
> What's your favorite Queen song? Talk to me so I don't have to think about real life! 
> 
> Aight. Shutting up. <3

Roger is in what appears to be a long hallway. It seems endless, going on and on. There are no doors or windows, no twists or turns, no beginning no end. He’s running, chasing the sound of Freddie’s voice. He heard it calling to him, and he’s trying to answer the call. Freddie’s voice sounds pained and desperate, like he’s in trouble.

Sometimes, when he looks up, Roger can see him. Freddie standing there, facing away from him, but there, and still calling his name. So he sprints, moving as fast as he can, trying so hard. But every time Roger gets close, he blinks, and Fred’s suddenly gone. 

“Rog!” 

“Freddie!” He calls back pitifully, growing more desperate and disheartened, but also more determined every time he misses his friend. “Hang on! I’m coming!” 

After a while, he just can’t take it. His muscles are screaming, and his lungs are burning. He wants to keep going, keep pushing, but his body simply won’t, it can’t. So he stops, tears of frustration pricking his closed eyes, leaning on the wall for support, catching his breath. 

“Roger!” 

He looks up, still panting, because that sounded close, closer than any of the other calls. And sure enough, there he is. Kneeling on the ground, still facing away from Roger, but looking closer than he has this entire time. Roger takes a cautious step forward, then another, then another. His eyes locked on the singer, too afraid to look away. 

Eventually, finally, Roger steps within arm distance of the singer, and he’s still there. He takes a shaky, nervous breath, coming closer, placing a hand on Fred’s shoulder. 

“Freddie?” He doesn't respond, though his hand comes up to gently interlace with Rogers. Roger feels a warmth in his fingers, a steady comforting feeling, he squeezes Fred’s hand, Fred squeezes back. For a moment, everything is calm, they are together, everything’s going to be alright. 

Suddenly, as if this is some kind of horror film, Freddie crumbles. The solid flesh under his hands, turns to dust, or ash, or something equal in consistency. Rogers eyes widen as he passes right through, falling to his knees on the pile of what was his friend just a second ago. His heart skips a beat, his brain taking a moment to play catch up with that he’s just seen, before panic sets in. 

“Fred!?” He exclaims, running his fingers through the lumps of dust, as if Freddie would somehow be hiding underneath them. “No no no no!” Tears leak from his eyes, with each passing second, he grows more desperate. He can’t have disappeared, that’s not possible, but Roger just saw it with his own two eyes. “Freddie!” He picks up clumps, watching them pour from his hands, his breathing growing more and more rapid. “Come back. Please, come back!’ 

“I’m here darling, I’m right here.” Strong, warm arms wrap around him. Roger clings to them, hiding his face in Freddie's neck, sobbing and not feeling the least bit embarrassed. He’s overwhelmed and confused and frustrated and he just doesn't want to be alone. 

“Don’t leave me.” He whispers brokenly, clinging as strongly as he can, unwilling to let go, even for a second. “Please, don’t leave me.” 

“Shhh, I’m right here love, I’m not going anywhere.” 

He feels a soft kiss on his forehead, and whimpers at the contact. He knows in the moment, that he isn’t alone. 

xxxxxxx

Roger wakes up slowly, feeling the sun warming his face. It’s one of those blissful mornings where his stomach, bladder, and alarm clock are all silent, and he can just lay and enjoy the soft, warmth of his bed. It’s extra warm today, not uncomfortably hot, just cozy, which is nice. He stretches, feeling coming back to him, and finds that there is an arm around his waist. 

Oh? Did he bring someone home last night? He didn’t think so, he didn’t remember even going out, but then again, his brain hasn’t been that dependable lately. So, there's another body next to him, unexpected, but not a big deal. Lord knows he’s had his share of one night stands, it might be a little awkward, but that was the name of the game. 

He sighs, rolling over, ready to get it over with. He opens his eyes, wanting to at least get a look at the girl, maybe he could try and remember her name. If not, oh well, it wouldn’t be the first time. He has to physically stop himself from yelping at the sleeping face he finds. 

Freddie. 

His best mate is not only sleeping in his bed, but is cuddled up quite close. Freddie's arm is slung over Roger's middle, properly snuggling the blonde. He’s definitely still sleeping, his features relaxed and his breathing slow and even. Rogers stomach flips at the sight, his heart giving a confused flutter. 

Did he and Fred…?

Freddie is beautiful, anyone with eyes can see that. Roger’s never considered himself gay, not even bisexual, but even he can apreciate the singers good looks. Plus, he’d be lying if he said he was never at least curious about things with a bloke. Freddie was a trusted, open minded, and let's face it, gorgeous friend. If Roger was going to test out his curiosity, Freddie was an obvious choice. It made sense. 

But surely Roger would remember having sex with his mate? Or at least remember anything from last night? Because at this point, he can’t even pull up how or why Freddie got into his bed. All he remembers is falling asleep alone, worn out from the crying and the self harm, pointedly ignoring the voice of Freddie in his mind that begged him to stop. 

Did something else happen?

He needs answers.


	15. Chapter 12: The morning after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my lovies! 
> 
> Welcome to the official chapter 12. I hope you enjoy it. This is a dialog heavy chapter and we all know I can’t dialog. But oh well, I tried! 
> 
> Thank you for the love on the last chapter or half chapter or whatever. I appreciate you all. I hope you like this. It’s basically pure fluff. 
> 
> Love you guys, I’ll try to update soon!

“Freddie?” Roger whispers softly, giving the singer a gentle shake. “Wake up mate.” 

The response he gets is something between a groan and a growl, as Freddie tightens his grip. He presses his face into Rogers neck, practically laying on top of him, letting out a huff at being disturbed, but remaining asleep. 

“Oh.” Roger exclaims a little breathlessly, feeling his cheeks heat up. He peers down at the mess of dark hair under him, feeling Freddie’s steady heart beat against his skin. It’s not uncomfortable, quite the opposite actually, being wrapped up in Freddie’s arms is a nice, comforting feeling. It’s just that... this is so intimate, and really not the sort of thing that platonic friends do. Right? 

Then again shagging isn’t something platonic friends normally do either, and that’s still on the table. 

Roger bites his lip, preparing himself for what is probably going to be an awkward conversation. It would be alright, he told himself, it was just Freddie. If their friendship could survive the trials and tribulations of the rockstar lifestyle, he’s pretty sure it can survive them possibly fucking. 

Well, here goes nothing. 

“Freddie.” He says, giving another shake, harder this time, feeling the singer stiffen slightly “Freddie wake up.” 

Freddie’s head pops up slowly, locking eyes with Roger, who feels his heart give another small flutter. Fred blinks slowly, taking in the sight before him, expression shifting from confusion to understanding. 

“Oh yeah.” He mumbles, voice gravely from sleep. “Morning, Rog.” Roger stares at him for a few more seconds then what is probably appropriate.

“Morning, Fred.” When he responds, his voice thankfully comes out somewhat steady. Freddie offers him an easy smile, before rolling off of him. Roger definitely doesn’t miss the extra warmth, at all. 

Freddie reaches his side of the bed, and yawns. He stretches lazily, rolling his neck side to side, making a satisfying popping sound. He looks over, at the blonde who is still staring at him dumbly, and smiles. 

“That’s the best sleep I’ve had in ages, you make a wonderful pillow, darling.” 

“Uh, yeah, happy to be of service.” Roger mumbles out, working up the courage to ask what exactly happened the night before. Freddie seemed relaxed, so maybe it wouldn’t be too awkward after all. Maybe they’d just laugh it off and forget it happened. 

“Shut up.” Fred mumbles out, Roger blinks

“I didn’t even say anything?” 

“Your thinking is deafening, dear.” Freddie explains, sitting up fully and turning to face roger. “Something on your mind, love?” Roger bites his lip. 

“Fred, did something happen last night?” 

“Something like…?” Freddie’s brows are furrowed in confusion, brain still waking up, trying to understand the question. 

“I mean like….did we… you know…?” Roger stammers out, feeling his blush return. What is wrong with him? It’s not like he’s a virgin, or even remotely shy about sex normally. Why is he having so much trouble with this? 

Freddie stares at him for a beat longer, before it suddenly clicks and he throws his head back laughing. And now Roger is even more confused than he has been all morning. 

“You...you think we… oh Roger, love.” Freddie is practically wheezing, eyes starting to water. 

“Don’t mock me, wanker!” Roger grumbles indignantly, blush deepening. He didn’t see what was so funny about this. 

“So sorry darling, really.” Freddie eventually calms down enough to speak normally, though his smile is still wide. “You just caught me off guard is all.” 

“Well you caught me off guard by being in my bed when I woke up, so I guess we’re even. Now answer the question. Did we..?” 

“Fuck?” Roger nods, glad Freddie finished the question for him. “I’m offended you don’t remember our magical night!” Freddie speaks with dramatic passion, sounding like a pouting child. 

Roger goes to apologize, but he stops when he sees the singer's expression. Freddie’s mouth is set in a grin, his eyes twinkling mischievously, he raises his eyebrows suggestively. Roger sighs, finally understanding. Freddie is messing with him

“We didn’t, did we?” He deadpans, causing Freddie to go into another giggle fit. 

“Afraid not, dear. But play your cards right, maybe you’ll get lucky next time.” He says with a wink. 

  
  


“Oh sod off Fred, like I’d ever sleep with you!” 

“You wouldn’t?” Freddie asks in mock disappointment. Roger rolls his eyes giving his friend a smack on the shoulder. 

“So, why were you here if it wasn’t to fuck?” 

“So you’d be okay with me being here to fuck?” 

“Freddie!!” He exclaims in exasperation, Freddie laughs again. 

“I’m sorry darling, it’s just so amusing to see you blushing like a virgin, it’s priceless. “ 

“I am not blushing!” Roger squeaks out, and it would have been convincing if he couldn’t feel the heat spreading up to the tips of his ears. Freddie chuckles, raising his hands. 

“Of course not, dear.” He apeases, though he’s still grinning. “You were having a nightmare, an awful one by the sounds of it. I was only trying to comfort you, that’s all.” He spoke again, sounding more sincere this time. Roger frowns, he doesn’t remember his dream at all. 

“A nightmare?” 

“You don’t remember it?” He shakes his head. “Well that’s probably for the best I suppose. It didn’t seem like you were having much fun, honestly.”

“All I remember is feeling…warm…” he thinks back. “Safe.” 

“Awww!” Freddie coos and roger pushes himself fully out of bed. 

“I’m going to make coffee!” He calls over his shoulder, leaving before the singer can make another remark. He hears Fred’s laughter ringing in his ears as he exits the room. 

  
  


Of course they didn’t shag. Why would Roger think they did? He pointedly ignores the sinking feeling in his stomach. He’s not disappointed he didn’t sleep with Freddie, why would he be? He and Freddie were mates, and that’s all, and that’s fine. 

Totally fine. 

_ “It’s alright, Rog, it’s alright.”  _

Freddie’s voice fills his mind as he reaches the kitchen. He shakes his head to clear it, frowning. He didn’t ask for a second opinion..

“Who asked you?” He mutters under his breath pulling out the coffee machine. He ignores the soft chuckle he receives in his mind. 

Two Freddie’s to annoy him. Great. 

  
  
  



	16. Chapter 13: A heartbreaking news flash.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! 
> 
> This is much faster than I was expecting to get this done, but as I said, I’m just working on this when I feel motivated to. So updates will just kinda happen when they happen. 
> 
> We are back to angst in this chapter. Oh boy. This is the worst of yet in terms of angst so like be prepared. 
> 
> I mention Ben hardy in this chapter but just to be clear he’s not going to be a character. It’s pretty much just an Easter egg I guess you could say lol. 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you like this chapter! I am excited to see the response. I will try to update soon! 
> 
> Love y’all ❤️❤️❤️

It was a fairly uneventful morning. 

Freddie was quick to join Roger in the kitchen, a small grin still plastered on his face. They were joined by Brian and John, and the day officially began. Everyone was in a fantastic mood. They even managed to convince Deacy to cook them breakfast. 

There was an easy, light hearted conversation amongst the boys as they are their eggs and toast. Freddie didn’t tease Roger in front of the others, which he was grateful for. They shared a knowing glance once in a while, but the singer kept quiet. There wasn’t anything juicy to tell, but he’d apparently decided Roger had been embarrassed enough. 

After the food was devoured and everyone had their fill of coffee, the boys found themselves in front of the telly. It had been Deacy’s suggestion, and the others agreed, just lazily hanging out sounded like a great way to begin the day. 

They all relaxed into the big, leather sofa, not quite snuggling but in close proximity. There was some rerun on that none of them were paying much attention to, still carrying on the mild conversation. The tension from the last few days almost completely released. 

“It’s brilliant darlings, you’re going to love it!” Freddie insists, telling them about a song he’s currently working on. 

“Can't wait to hear it, mate.” Brian says, mirroring the singer's smile. Freddie had so much passion for music it was impossible not to catch some radiating off of him. 

“We’re going to need blondies beautiful dog whistle pitch for it.” He rambles on, looking towards Roger. “Harmonies, dear, lots of harmonies.” 

“Sure thing, Fred.” Roger chuckles, feeling butterflies as Freddie flashes him a genuine smile, like he’s just been given a great gift. 

The singer goes to speak again, but is cut off by some intense music coming through the television. They all turn back to the screen, curiously, as the BBC news logo flashes across the screen. 

Roger frowns, this is an odd time for the news to pop up. The last episode wasn’t even finished yet. 

“Good day, ladies and gentlemen, I’m your host Micheal Peterson, and this is BBC news coming at you with a heartbreaking news flash.” The smartly dressed anchor tells the camera. 

“I wonder what’s going on?” Brian asks, only to be shushed by Freddie who's interested in the story . 

“Beloved celebrity and local Londoner Benjamin Hardy, has been pronounced dead this morning.” 

Rogers stomach flips, his chest tightening as panic begins to set in at the words. It’s not that he’s going to mourn Ben, he’s never even met the man, though he’s been told in an interview or two that they have a similar look. It just hits too close to home. This report could so easily be about Freddie. 

“Exact details of his untimely death have not been disclosed as of yet. Though it is known that Ben did suffer from a few health problems.” 

He jumps up from the couch, blocking out the voice on the telly. His fists clenched right, teeth mashed together, he can’t sit here. 

“Rog?” Deacy asks, eyebrows furrowed together. Roger glances to find his bandmates looking up at him with curiosity and concern. 

“Bathroom.” He gets out, hoping he sounds somewhat normal before barely stopping himself from running away. 

He’s barely gotten the bathroom door closed before his trousers are down off of his legs. He’s vaguely aware of Freddie saying something in his head, but he’s too far into his panic to make out the words. His shaking hands digging into his thigh as he struggled to get enough oxygen. The familiar sting is there but it’s just not enough to ground himself. 

He needs more. 

He looks around desperately, looking for anything he can use. He pops open the drawer under the sink, and finds a safety razor sitting in it. One of the others must use this to keep their faces smooth

He can’t dissemble the razor fast enough. Trembling fingers clawing clumsily at the device eventually get the compartment open. He pops out the blade, holding it in his hand, feeling the cool metal against his fingers. 

Roger feels a beat of hesitation, staring at it. 

Is he really going to do this? Is he going to resort to cutting himself with a blade?

The first slide of the blade against his skin makes him hiss. It’s a sharp stinging sensation, definitely much more painful than his fingernails. He grits his teeth and keeps going, enduring the pain, making more slits along his flesh. 

His vision is blurred by tears, his skin feels wet beneath his hand, but refusing to stop. He has to do this. This is the only way he can stop the chaos in his brain. This is the only way he can anchor himself.

He’s so caught up in the feeling of mutating himself, he doesn’t hear the knocking, the voice, the sound of the door he forgot to lock clicking open.

xxxxxxxx

They all frown after Roger as he walks away. Glancing back and forth at one another. Things had seemed to be going well, none of them knowing what had upset the blonde. 

Freddie holds out for about three minutes before he pushes himself up, a bad feeling brewing in his stomach. 

“I’m going to go check on him.” 

“Alright Fred, make sure he knows we’re here to talk, if he wants. “ Freddie smiles at the bassist. 

“I will Deacs.” 

He walks over to the bathroom, biting his lip slightly. Perhaps he’s just being paranoid, maybe Roger really did just need to loo. He taps his knuckles gently against the wood. 

“Rog?” He calls softly to the closed door, feeling like it was the night before all over again “Are you alright darling, you seemed very upset a  
moment ago.” 

There’s no response.

“Rog? Roger dear?” Nothing. 

The sinking feeling in Freddie’s stomach grows stronger. He knocks louder, hearing soft gasps and groaning from the other side. “Roger?” He calls again feeling his anxiety building up. Something is wrong, he can feel it. Something is very wrong. 

He tries the handle, and finds it unlocked. 

“Roger I’m coming in if you don’t say something.” No response, just more grunting and hissing. He frowns, bracing himself and enters the bathroom.

He is not prepared for what he finds inside.


	17. Chapter 14: Red.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again!
> 
> This was done so quickly holy shit. It was a surprise how fast I got this done when I actually sat down to write. But hey, not complaining!
> 
> This is hella angsty. Like if you thought the last one was bad, this one is worse. There is some fluff towards the end, but it's mostly just angst. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy, let me know! 
> 
> <3

Freddie’s heart almost stops for a beat when he finds Roger kneeling on the floor. 

The blonde was hunched forward, breathing harshly through his teeth. His brows are knitted together, tears slowly dripping down his face one at a time, he looks intensely focused on this task he’s currently performing. In his hand is a razor blade, which is continuing to slice gashes into his thigh. The other hand clawing at the same patch of skin, the whole thing covered in red. 

“Roger!?” Freddie yelps, quickly making his way over. “Shit! What the hell are you doing?!” 

Roger doesn’t acknowledge him, just continues cutting into his own flesh with shaking hands. Freddie, not knowing what else to do, grabs the drummer's wrists pulling his hands away from the injury. Roger doesn’t even seem to notice at first, his one had still making the scratching motions as if it hadn’t been moved at all. Then it seems to hit him that he’s no longer tearing into himself, and he struggles.

“Roger! Stop!” The singer pleads, the blonde shakes his head, still pulling.

“No!” He moans out miserably, weakly fighting. “No no no no no.” 

He doesn’t even appear to know he’s doing it, his eyes are glassy and unfocused. He’s calling out to the room, but not actually answering Freddie. He groans as his arms are tugged tighters, though still not seeming to register the singer's presence. 

“Roger, stop! Please!” 

“Freddie!” He calls ought, still struggling but less so now. “Fred!” 

“Roger, I’m here!” He pleads desperately, feeling tears he didn’t even realize he was crying dripping off of his chin. He doesn’t know what’s going on in the blonde's head , but all he wants to do is reach inside and fix it. He takes both of Rogers' wrists in one hand, using the other one to tilt the blonde head up to look him right in the eyes. “I’m here, I’m right here!” 

Teary blue eyes stare back at him, and Freddie can see the moment when the world comes back into focus. Rogers eyes widen for a moment, his face a look of pure horror, his bottom lip trembling. Then, he snaps his eyes shut, and throws his head back with a wail. 

Freddie's heart absolutely shatters into a million pieces. He gently tugs the blade out of the drummers hand, and he lets it go willingly. It falls to the floor with a clink. Freddie wraps both arms around Roger, pulling him against his chest and up into his lap.

“It’s alright,” He whispers, not at all sure of what to say or do. “It’s alright, love.” 

Roger doesn't hug back but doesn’t try to push away either. He lets the strong arms hold his trembling body, eyes still closed. A constant stream of broken sobs wracking through him. He feels so weak, and vulnerable, and awful. He just wants the pain to stop. 

The noise soon draws Brian and John into the room, who come barging into a heart breaking scene. Roger curled up on Fred's lap, Freddie keeping him tightly held, blood smeared on both of them. Both men are crying openly, though Freddie is silent and Roger is full on wailing. 

Freddie locks eyes with both of them, and they can see the desperation behind them. He looks back at the shaking blonde in his arms, and lets out a breath that sounds like he’s choking. 

This is beyond anything he could have imagined was going on with Roger. What the hell are they going to do?

xxxxxx

Roger flinches at the fist touch of the antiseptic on his thigh. It stings, and he jerks in reaction, but Brains hand on his leg holds him still. 

“Hold still, Rog.” He mumbles gently, voice kind but shaky. “I’ll be quick.”

Roger doesn’t speak, he hasn’t spoken the whole time. Brian had led him to sit on the toilet seat while he treated the wounds. Luckily, they weren’t deep enough to need to call an ambulance, but still needed to be cleaned and bandaged. 

Roger bites his lip as he feels the bandage being applied. His sobs eventually evolved to silent tears, which eventually mostly dried up. Though he is still a bit shaky. He just sits with his fits clench, staring at the suddenly fascinating floor tiles. 

He deliberately doesn’t look at any of the red ones. 

“Okay, all done.” Brian stands up from his kneeling position. He places the supplies back in a drawer somewhere, before turning back to Roger, who still hasn’t looked up or acknowledged him at all. “Rog, can I hug you?” 

Roger shrugs, not voicing how lovely a hug actually sounds to him. A pair of arms wrap around him, long and lanky, not as warm as Freds, but still nice. 

“You don’t have to say anything, mate, it’s okay.” Brian speaks softly, giving Roger a gentle squeeze. “Just know that I care about you, very much. We all do. And if you ever need anything, even if it’s just to talk, I’ll always be right here.”

If Roger wasn’t all cried out, he’s sure he’d be at it again. When Brian pulls back, he looks him in the eyes, but can’t bring himself to speak yet. He reaches forward, giving the guitarists a gentle squeeze on the shoulder, which he hopes will convey his gratitude that he can’t quite express. 

Brian seems to understand though, offering him a sad smile. 

“C’mon.” He nods towards the door. “Deacy put the kettle on.” 

Roger lets himself be led away into the kitchen and placed on a seat at the table. Brian sets him down gently, as the sound of dishware clinking around can be heard in the distance. More bodies enter the room, and a cup of tea is placed in front of him. 

He feels Brain walk away and definitely does not whimper at the loss of contact. 

A plate of biscuits is also set on the table, there's some more shuffling and mumbling that he can’t quite make out before someone sits across from him. He bites his lip, wanting nothing more than to jump into the cup in front of him and drown. 

“Alright, love.” He glances up for the first time to see Freddie sitting opposite to him. The others nowhere to be seen. Freddie takes a long, slow sip of his tea, before setting the cup back down, never breaking eye contact. 

“Talk to me. “


	18. Chapter 15: Honesty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello hello! 
> 
> Welcome back to angst central. Featuring your favorite boys who really need hugs. I really need to stop being to mean to them.. 
> 
> Anyway! 
> 
> Here is another chapter for your reading pleasure! I hope you all enjoy it! This is a chapter where I am feeling particularly insecure about my writing, so I'm curious what you guys think. Sometimes it's hard to tell if what I'm writing is shit or if it's just my brain being rude. As usual thank you all for all the feedback and support. You are all so kind and I hope you continue to enjoy 
> 
> Unrelated, I've started naming chapters for no reason. So yea lmao.
> 
> <3

“Talk to me.” 

Roger keeps his head down, eyes not moving from his cup of tea. 

“C’mon, blondie.” Freddie uses the casual nickname, but his tone is far from humorous. “We can sit here as long as you like, but you’re going to talk to me.” Roger shrugs, his mouth in a thin line. 

“There’s nothing to talk about.” He mumbles, his voice rough and shaky from crying his throat raw not long ago. 

“Don’t.” Freddie says sternly, his voice giving no room for argument. “Don’t you dare try to act like you’re okay, or that nothing’s going on with you. You haven’t been right for days, and you’ve been refusing help at every opportunity. Then I find you in the process of trying to butcher your own leg off. So don’t say you’re fine because you are anything but. Now, you can cry, scream, whatever you need to do, but you’re not getting out of this.” 

Freddie’s tone is serious and emotional but not harsh. Roger feels himself shrinking more and more into himself the longer Fred talks. Willing the floor to just swallow him up. A moment of silence passes and Freddie sighs. 

“Roger, please, I don’t know what to do. I just want to help you.” 

“You can’t.” Roger whispers, feeling his eyes well up despite having no more tears to cry. 

“What?” 

“You can’t help me! Nobody can!” Roger cries out looking up at the singer for the first time. Freddie stares back at him for a moment, his expression unreadable. 

“Well I’m damn sure gonna try. ” He says finally, voice sure and determined. Roger casts his eyes back down, unable to keep the eye contact up. “If you think I’m just going to sit back and let you suffer through this alone, you are sorely mistaken, darling. Now talk.” 

“I...I don’t know what to say..” Roger admits in a small voice after a beat of silence. His head is chaos right now, an absolute mess. How is he supposed to explain it to Fred when he doesn’t even understand it himself. 

“Alright, how about this for a start.” Freddie says, his tone gentler, giving Roger the courage to look back up again. “I’ll ask you a few simple questions, and you just have to answer them honestly. How does that sound?” 

Roger contemplates the offer for a moment. That does sound simpler than actually trying to sort his own thoughts out. The questions definitely won't be easy to answer, but maybe he could get out of elaborating on some of them. 

“Alright.” 

“But you better be honest with me, no more deflecting.” Freddie’s stern tone was back, Roger shrank back on himself a bit, but nodded. 

“Honesty. I promise.” Freddie studies his face for a moment, and seems to accept this answer. 

“Okay, how long has this been going on?” The singer asks, wanting to stay on subject but start with something that would hopefully be easier to talk about. 

“Um, just a few days.” Freddie gives him a skeptical look. “It hasn’t been long, I swear.” 

“Why did you do it?” He asks, never one to beat around the bush. Roger fiddles with his hands, already uncomfortable with the line of questioning. 

“I don’t know..” He mumbles out. 

“Yes you do.” Freddie doesn’t give an inch. “Honesty, remember?” 

“Right, honest, okay..” Roger takes a moment to try and collect his thoughts before continuing. “I needed it to stop.” He finally comes out with. 

“Needed what to stop, dear?” 

“I don’t know how to explain it..” He admits, wishing he had a word to describe the awful, panicky feeling.

“Try.” Freddie's voice is more a plea than a command. 

“It’s like…” He searches for the words. “It’s like I’m drowning. My mind races and it won’t stop and I feel like I’m drowning beneath the weight of my own thoughts. I can’t think right, I can’t breathe, I can’t calm down. It’s terrifying.” 

Roger trails off, feeling like he’s doing a terrible job of wording it, but Freddie nods so he continues. 

“The pain it… helps.” 

“Roger, how could you possibly think that’s helping you?”

“I don’t know… it..it gives me something to anchor myself.” He tries to explain, the words sounding illogical even to his own ears. “It makes my brain slow down so I can actually think. It makes everything settle. I know it makes no sense, but it just helps.” 

“It doesn’t help, though, love. It’s hurting you.” Freddie's voice is pained with an edge of desperation. Roger gives a tiny shrug, not saying anything. He doesn’t really see the difference to be honest. “Well, do you know what caused it? What made you feel that way in the first place? If we know what triggers it maybe we can stop it from happening again.” 

Freddie sounds hopeful but close to tears. Roger immediately tenses, his heartbeat picking up. He knew they’d get here eventually, but he’s still not prepared for it. How is he even supposed to begin?

“I don’t wanna talk about it..” He says in a small voice, teeth mashing together, trying a fruitless effort to get out of the question.

“Yes, I gathered that, but I’m afraid we’re beyond the point where you get to keep secrets here.”  
Roger stubbornly kept his head down, mouth clamped shut, more an act of defense than defiance. “I know this isn’t easy for you, believe me dear, I wish we were talking about anything else. But we have to. You can’t suffer in silence anymore, love. It’s destroying you.” 

Roger bites his lip, he can hear the pain in his friend's voice. He feels guilt bubbling in his stomach. He hadn’t meant to hurt anyone else, only himself. He glances up to Fred and finds bleary eyes looking back at him. 

“I’m sorry, Freddie I’m so sorry.” He whispers, voice cracking. 

Arms are wrapped around him before he can get another word out. Warm and strong and steady, and he just wants to bury himself in them. He wants to make a home in their safe shelter and never come out again. 

“Oh, darling, it’s alright. “ He can feel Freddy's chest vibrating with every word. “You’re in utter agony right now, love, I know. But I promise, it’s going to be alright. We’re going to get you through whatever it is you're going through. You just have to let us help.”

Freddie eventually, reluctantly lets go, though he doesn’t walk away. He grabs the chair closest to Roger, pulling it up so he can sit close to the blonde. He places a hand on Rogers shoulder, who gives a small sniffle, still not speaking. 

“Do you want me to go get Brain or Deacs? Would it be easier for you to talk to them? I won’t be offended, love, I just want what’s best for you.” He offers. 

Roger considers this. Does he want that? Would this be any easier with anyone else? He’s not sure anything in the world could make it easier, the only thing he knows for sure, is he doesn’t want Freddie to leave. 

He shakes his head, giving the singer a pleading glance, willing him not to go. Freddie gives him a squeeze in response, a small smile on his lips. 

“Alright then, love, but you’re going to have to talk to me.” 

“Okay, okay I’ll try.” Roger takes a deep breath, trying to collect his thoughts. Is there any way he can go about this without sounding like he’s off his rocker? He doesn’t think so. Well, he promised Fred honesty, so he’s going to try. 

“Fred,” He begins, his voice quiet and unsure. “Are you one hundred percent sure you’re alive?”


	19. Chapter 16:  Alright.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again
> 
> Welcome back to the pit of hell :D 
> 
> I am not really happy with this chapter, but when am I ever.. you guys seem to like the writing even when I don't so here you are! 
> 
> I hope nobody is disappointed with how things turn out. I wasn't planning for the chapter to go this way but it just kind of happened. I may take a break from writing this for a little while just to regroup and decide where I want to go from here. 
> 
> Thank you all so so so much for all the love on the last few chapters. All the comments are always so sweet and supportive and amazing. I love you guys so much! I really hope you enjoy, and I will try to post again soon. 
> 
> <3

The silence that hangs in the room is deafening. 

Freddie stares at Roger, brows furrowed, looking like he can’t quite comprehend what was just asked of him. Rogers' anxiety builds the longer the question hangs in the air. It feels like ages before Freddie finally speaks.

“Am I what?” He asks, curious and concerned, as if he’s unsure he even heard the question properly. “Could you, um, repeat that, dear?” 

Roger shakes his head quickly. 

“No! No sorry it was stupid, forget it!” He pleads, stinking into himself, the tea cup on the table once again looking like a great place to drown himself in. 

Why the hell did he ask in the first place? It was stupid, so stupid. He should have tried to find a way out of the question. He shouldn’t have caved so easily into Fred’s promise of help. 

Freddie can’t help him. Nobody can. 

“Roger!!” 

He blinks and finds Freddie’s hands are on his shoulders, and his face much closer than before. His brown eyes are wide, teary and desperately seeking Rogers. The moment Freddie can see the focus back on Rogers eyes, he’s being pulled against the singer's chest. 

“There you are, love, there you are.” Freddie’s voice is so shaky and scared. Roger is confused enough that it helps stave off the rest of the panic inside of him. He tries to push away, to speak to his friend properly, but Fred’s arms hold him firmly in place. 

“Fred, what?” He mumbles against the wall muscle in front of him. 

“Roger, oh Rog dear.” Freddie eventually lets go to look him in eye again. “You really scared me darling. You just froze up, you wouldn’t talk or even look at me, it was like you weren’t even here anymore.” 

Roger frowns, feeling guilty once again. That desperate and panicked tone of voice is one that should never be coming from someone he loves, especially not Freddie. 

“I’m sorry Fred, I didn’t mean to.” He says honestly, Freddie shakes his head. 

“Don’t be sorry darling, just talk to me. What was that?” 

“That um, panicky feeling I told you about.” Roger shifts uncomfortably under the singer's gaze. “My mind was… just going. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“No, love no, it’s quite alright.” Freddie assured, voice coming out more steady now. “I’m sorry I got so worked up, it just startled me. I wasn’t sure what was happening, or if you were okay. It’s one thing to hear about your struggles, and another to actually witness it, I wasn’t really prepared for that.” 

Roger goes to apologize again, but a warm hand on his cheek stops him before he can. He looks up and a soft blush creeps onto his cheeks as Freddies eyes stare unwaveringly into his own. They are shining bright with moisture, but also steady and sure, and Roger finds he can’t look away. 

“But now I’m even more determined to help you than I was before, darling. It’s not going to be easy, not even a little bit, but we are going to do this together. Alright?” 

Freddie's voice is fierce, thick with emotion, and Roger shudders under the words. 

“Alright, Fred.” He whispers, and Freddie gives him a genuine smile, their eyes staying locked a moment later

“Good, good.” He mumbles slightly breathlessly, pulling his hand away. “Now, don’t think you’re getting out of explaining your earlier question dear, but for the sake of not triggering that same response again, let’s change the subject. I have more questions.” 

“Okay, questions, yeah.” He says, not sure yet if this development is a good or bad thing. Different doesn't necessarily mean easier. 

“Remember, love, be honest with me.” Freddie prefaces the question, seeming almost hesitant “Even if you think I won’t like the answer.”

“Right, okay.” He says with a nod, though he’s starting to feel anxious again. If Freddie is hesitant to ask this question, it’s got to be a bad one. “I promise.” 

“Darling… are you suicidal?” 

Roger blinks, frowning as Freddie tenses in anticipation of the answer. He thinks, honestly unsure of how to answer the question.

Was he? Suicidal? He’s never considered himself to be in the past, even when things got dark. Although, he did literally try to kill himself that night that feels like ages ago by this point. And even though he hasn’t thought about ending it all recently, can he really say he wouldn’t try it again? 

“I don’t know.” He says after a moment of silence that is far too long for Freddie’s liking. 

“Roger..” Freddie’s tone is shaky but with an edge of warning to it.

“No no, I mean it!” Roger insists, elaborating before the singer can reprimand him. “I really don’t know how to answer that. I’m not necessarily happy with life right now, but I honestly don’t know if I would try to end it.” 

“Have you...tried..in the past?” Roger looks down at the floor with a nod.

“Yes.” He mutters, ashamed, unable to meet Freddie's eyes. “I did, once.”

“Oh love..” Fred’s voice breaks as he wraps the blonde in another hug. Roger can feel a few warm tears and a soft kiss placed onto his hair. “I’m sorry sweetheart, I’m so sorry.” 

“What for?” He asks, feeling his blush return. 

“I’m sorry you’ve been in that much pain, and that I wasn’t there to help you through it.” Freddie says, leaning down to be on eye level with Roger. Their faces close together, which seems to be happening more and more today, not that Roger honestly minds. 

“But I’m here now, love, all of us are. Me, Brain and Deacy are all here for you, and none of us are going anywhere. We are going to be there with you every step of the way. I know it may not feel like it right now, but things are going to get better. There is a light at the end of this tunnel, and I know you might not see it right now, darling, but we can reach it together. I promise.” 

For a moment, Roger can’t do anything but stare back at the singer. He can feel emotion swelling in his chest, his eyes misting up for a different reason this time. Freddie’s words are determined and sure, Roger can see that he truly believes them with everything he has. 

And maybe Roger can learn to believe them too. 

“Alright, Fred.” He whispers eventually, wanting to collapse back into the warm arms in front of him. “Alright.”


	20. Chapter 17: Cleanup Crew

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! 
> 
> I did not think this was going to be up this fast, but here we are. I apologize if yall hate this chapter, just gonna put that out there. 
> 
> I am not confident in dialog heavy chapters, as we all know, and even less confident in writing Brian and Deacy. So yeah, I'm not sure if you guys will like this one. But you guys have never stopped amazing me with your support so far, so maybe you will! 
> 
> Either way, thank you all so much for being so wonderful, I love you all so much!
> 
> Just before we get to the chapter, I have to give a shout out to [FlyAway33](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlyAway_33/pseuds/FlyAway_33) She doesn't know I'm doing this but I have to because she is wonderful. She lets me vent about writing, she helps me when I get stuck, and she doesn't complain when I send her pictures of Roger at 1 am. She also writes stories on here, which are awesomely angsty and super well written. You should all go check them out if you haven't already, and send her some love! :D
> 
> Okay, I'll shut up and let you read now!

Deacy’s hands were shaking as he pulled Freddie away from the bathroom. 

Brian had pulled the still trembling blonde out of Fred’s arms, who let out a whimper as they were separated, and guided him over to take a seat. Him and John shared a meaningful look as they both manipulated the men in their arms away from one another. Both Roger and Freddie were shaken and vulnerable, and needed to be looked after. 

He led the singer out to the kitchen, and placed him propped against the counter. Freddie didn’t protest, seemingly in too much of a state of shock to do so. Deacy busies himself with making tea, preparing a plate of biscuits as he waits for the kettle to boil. He didn’t think anyone would be in the mood to eat anything, but he figured it wouldn’t hurt to put out. Plus it gives him something to do. 

A shaky sigh next to him makes him turn his attention back to Freddie. His eyes were closed, his cheeks still wet with tears, his mouth pressed into a tight frown. His knuckles turning white with the force gripping the counter behind him. John doesn’t hesitate to pull him into a tight hug, which Freddie falls right into.

“Oh god...oh god.” He whispers miserably as Deacy rubs his back soothingly. 

“I know, mate, I know.” He keeps his voice in a low, soft tone that he hopes is comforting. 

“We didn’t see.. How did we not see?” Freddie’s voice breaks, and John holds him tighter. They are roughly the same height, but he does his best to curl himself around the signer, pulling his head against his neck.

“I guess we’re all a bit thick.” He mumbles, smiling when he can feel Freddie shaking out a tiny laugh, glad he was able to coax it out. “I don’t know, Fred, I don’t know how we didn’t see, or maybe we just didn’t want to see. We all saw that he was struggling, but we all tried to let him deal with it himself. So yeah, we’re definitely thick.”

“We have to help him..”

“We will Fred, we will.” 

They pull away after another few moments, and Freddie does thankfully look calmer. Out of his peripheral vision he can see Brain lead Roger to the table and sit him down. 

“Thanks Deacs.” He says softly with a smile which John returns. He gives him a final squeeze before turning to pull cups out of the cupboard. He pours two cups of tea, handing one over to Freddie who takes it gratefully. 

“So what happens now?” He asks after a sip.

“You should talk to him, Fred.” 

“What about you and Brian, shouldn’t you be there too?” 

“The two of you two of you need to deal with whatever's going on between you. I thought giving Roger space was the answer, but we see how well that turned out.” He says with a shake of his head. “You have to talk, just the two of you.” Freddie contemplates the words, and nods.

“What will you do?” 

“Someones gotta clean and Roger-proof the bathroom.” He smiles, but it’s a sad smile in the context of the words. Freddie frowns again, earning himself another little squeeze.

“It’s gonna be alright, Fred.” 

And with that last reassurance, they part ways. Freddie going to sit with Roger, John pulling Brian off to the bathroom with him. 

The two of them take in the scene in front of them. The tiles are splattered with blood, enough to turn your stomach. The razor still sitting on the edge of the sink, the blade itself tossed carelessly into the puddle. There are a few extra red smears and marks around the floor. 

“I’ll get the mop..” Brain says, voice quiet even for him, as he turns to leave the room. 

Deacy takes a deep, slightly shaky breath, before running a cloth under the tap and getting to work. He begins scrubbing, mouth pressed in a hard line, Brain joins him shortly after. They make their way around the room, slowly restoring it to the state it was in before the previous incident.

“Should’ve done something..” Deacy eventually mumbles out, feeling the guilt swirling inside of him. 

“What?” 

“We should have done something for Roger.” He says dejectedly, not looking up from the red spot he’s currently scrubbing away. A moment of silence hangs in the air. 

“Look at me.” Comes Brian’s eventual, gentle response. John doesn’t. “Deacs, look at me.” 

When their eyes meet, Brian offers him a soft, understanding smile. 

“I get it, mate.” He says in his calm, soft spoken way, gradually stepping closer to the bassist as he talks. “ I know you feel terribly guilty right now, so do I, and you can bet Fred is in the same boat. We all wish we could go back and keep this from happening, but we can’t. The only thing we can do is be there for Roger, and support him while he puts himself back together.” 

“Yeah,” John sighs, conceding the point as Brian's arms wrap around him.“I just…”

“I know.” 

“I hate it,” He mumbles into the taller man's chest, allowing his friend to comfort him. “I hate everything about this whole situation.” 

“So do I, it’s awful, but it’s going to be alright. Everything will be, not just Roger, the rest of us will be too. We’re going to make it out of this together, as a family.” The guitarist ensures, feeling confident in his words. He didn’t know what the future held, what struggles they would have to face, but he knew that so long as they had each other, they would be alright.

“Promise?” 

“I promise.” He assures. 

The two separate, and John gives him a sheepish smile. 

“Sorry, uh, got a little caught up for a moment there.”

“Oh, don’t be. I understand, nothing about this situation is easy.” He says, giving John another smile. “Do you feel better at least?” 

“Yeah, yeah I do, thanks Brimi.” He shares Brains smile, and receives a small pat on the arm, before Brian turns to go pick up the mop once again.

“By the way, you missed a spot.” He calls over his shoulder.

“Oh, sod off, git!” Deacy joins Brain in a genuine laugh,feeling some of the anxiety clearing from his chest. 

Brian's right, whatever comes, they can get through it. 

Together.


	21. Authors note

Hello!! 

I am very sorry that this isn’t a chapter, but I hope you’ll read it anyway. There are a few things I want to let you guys know. 

First of all, I am no longer posting anonymously, as you can see. I was nervous to post this story under my actual username at first, but I kind of feel like I am just being nervous for no good reason. So despite anxiety, I am doing it! I could go into more detail about why I started off anonymously but I don’t really have a truly good reason and I don’t think any of you care to read me ramble about nothing forever so we’ll just skip that part. 

The second order of business, I am taking a break. Before you get worried when I say a break, I mean a break, I’m not stopping permanently. I am so invested in these characters and the world I’ve created I am definitely not abandoning it! I am merely taking a little step back. I have been flying through chapters lately which has been great, and I am super happy I able to get all of them done for you guys. But today I went to write and found the motivation and creativity just wasn’t there. I want to keep posting for you guys, but I’m afraid I’ll burn myself out. So I hope you guys understand, and will be patient with me during my little hiatus. I am a bit nervous that people will lose interest while I’m gone, but I hope you’ll still care when I’m ready to continue.(not that I’m planning to be gone a long time don’t worry) 

One last thing: thank you all so so so so so so so so can’t say it enough so much. You are all so sweet and amazing and supportive and it just blows my mind. I don’t know why my story is the one to give people such strong reactions but I am  
so thankful and flattered. Your comments always make me so happy even if it’s just a few words. Even on days when I’m feeling insecure about my writing you guys still give me nothing but love and assurance and I am so grateful. I don’t know what I did to deserve such amazing lovely readers but thank you all so much. 

I think that’s all I want to say. If you have any questions or anything you can of course leave them in the comments. Even though I’m not writing I will be reading and responding to comments anyway. 

I love you guys, and I hope you’ll stick with me, and I’m sorry this got so wordy! 

-Samantha


	22. Chapter 18: So be it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (This chapter was posted for like two seconds but when I looked only half of it was posted?? No idea how that happened, obviously I didn't have the whole thing copied from the google doc.... but I think it's fixed now. I deleted the chapter and I'm posting it again now! I hope so anyway, here we go, and I'm sorry if this pings you guys twice or something.)  
> Hello everyone!
> 
> Welcome back to whatever the hell this is! 
> 
> First things first, thank you all so so much for the support on the authors note. Thank you for all the encouragement, and the understanding. Thank you for being so kind about me taking a break, and just for being so wonderful in general. I hope you all enjoy this chapter. It is a tiny bit longer than I'd usually make them, so I hope the wait was worth it! 
> 
> I'll try to update again soon, but I have a ton of family coming into town all next week so we'll see what happens. 
> 
> I am not sure how I feel about this one, but when am I ever! I am really just pumped to be writing for you all again, and I'm excited to hear what you all think! 
> 
> Not gonna lie, I'm a little bit drunk right now, so this might be incoherent garbage, but I'll let you all be the judge of that!
> 
> Love you all!

Brian and Deacy find their bandmates in the middle of a warm embrace when they exit the bathroom. 

They linger off scene for a moment, wanting to give Roger and Freddie their proper time together. There is an air of anxiety in the room, but the mood is calmer over all. It was a good sign, and the boys were cautiously optimistic when they eventually approached. 

“Alright Rog?” Deacy is the first one to speak, breaking the silence in the room, and two heads turn to look at him. Roger nods, his eyes are wide and wet, and it makes him look impossibly innocent and vulnerable. In that moment, John wants nothing more than to scoop the drummer up into a hug, but he doesn’t. 

He isn’t sure of Rogers' mental state, and he doesn’t want to trigger anything by moving too quickly. 

The boys maneuvered themselves so that they were all sitting in close proximity to each other, and more importantly, to Roger. Freddie remained closest to the blonde, keeping one hand on his shoulder, while Brian and Deacs took seats across from the two of them. 

“So what happens now?” Freddie asks the room, his eyes staying on Roger, who is internally glad he didn’t have to be the one to ask.

“Now, we talk,” Brian says, eyes drifting over each one of them. “About what changes need to happen, and where we go from here.”   
  


“I won’t do it again..” Roger says with a frown, really wishing he could believe himself. But the truth was, he didn’t know if he was going to stop. It’s not as if he didn’t want to stop, but sometimes he just needs it. 

“Rog..” The human poodle says with a patient smile that makes Roger instantly cast his eyes down on the table. “I know you probably think this isn’t a big deal, and you’d rather us just sweep this under the rug, but I’m afraid we can’t do that. It  _ is _ a big deal, and it’s something we are all going to to have to work together on. Us on helping you, you on accepting help.” 

“But..” Roger’s frown deepens as he sinks further into the chair, his voice coming out small and almost scared. “But I won’t do it again.” 

“Darling, I know it probably feels that way right now, now that you’re a wee bit more clear headed than you were before, but that isn’t a risk we can afford to take.” Freddie says as gently as he can, Roger sighs but doesn’t protest further, no matter how much he wants to. 

“We need to implement some safeguards into everyday life.” Brian begins, only to be cut off by Roger.

“Safeguards?” 

“Little precautions,” the guitarist explains “to ensure this doesn’t happen again.” 

“Like what?” The blonde asks with trepidation, afraid of the answer. 

“Well for starters, you need to start talking more.” John says seriously, and Roger doesn’t look at him. “It can be with us, or we can get you a therapist if you like, but you have to open up. No more of this suffering in silence crap.” 

“No.” Roger says quickly, though his voice remains quiet. “No therapist, don’t want a therapist.” He doesn’t want a therapist, what could a therapist do for him? They can’t help him. They’d just call him crazy and admit him. 

“That’s fine, dear, we won’t pressure you to see one.” Freddie says as soothingly as he can, and Roger feels brave enough to look up at him for a moment. 

“As long as you agree to actually talk to us,” John is quick to add, his voice keeping the serious tone. “At least one of us, it doesn’t have to be all three, you can pick whoever you’re comfortable with.” He adds, tone softening slightly, but not much. He isn’t trying to be harsh, not at all, but this is a very serious matter. 

“Alright.” Comes the timid response. 

“We’ll check on you periodically, maybe once a day, maybe more frequently.” Brian adds to the discussion. “Ask you how you’re doing, how you feel, make sure it's all relatively smooth sailing.” 

Roger plays with the hem of his shirt, not looking up at his bandmate, but nods. It doesn’t sound fun, but it might not be so bad. Opening up to Freddie had been difficult, but not as hard as he thought it would be. 

“But you have to promise to be honest with us, Darling. That rule still stands.” Freddie gives him a little squeeze. 

“That’s right. If we suspect you’re slipping again, or trying to hide something from us, we may not give you a choice.” John says firmly. 

“Deacs..” Freddie begins, wanting to take a gentler approach to their dear drummer, but John doesn’t give an inch. 

“I’m hoping it doesn’t come to that.” He says, tone not softening. “But we have to accept that it could. We have to hope for the best, but prepare for…. other outcomes.” 

His voice trails off a bit at the end, and an uncomfortable silence hangs in the air, implications of ‘other outcomes’ weighing heavily on everyone's minds.

“You’re right, dear, you’re right.” Freddie concedes when presented with the alternative.

“I agree,” Brian pops in again.”And for that matter, I don’t really think Roger should be left alone much. At least not for the foreseeable future.” Roger tries his very best to sink completely into his chair and disappear as the conversation eventually continues as if he isn’t even there. His stomach drops more and more with every word.

“Yes, he’ll need to be supervised.” John agrees, Roger’s head snaps up, finally looking them all in the face for the first time that whole conversation. 

“Supervised?” He asks, his tone decidedly offended, which would have been amusing given other circumstances. “The hell do you mean supervised?” 

“I mean exactly what I said, supervised.” John explains calmly, not budging under the blondes temper. A courage that comes from a combination of his determination to help his friend, and years of dealing with his outbursts.“Watched. Until we all collectively feel satisfied that you aren’t a danger to yourself, we’re going to watch you.”

“You can’t treat me like I’m some bloody child!” Roger snaps, eyes beginning to leak all over again. Frustrated and indignant, fighting even though he knows he hasn’t got a leg to stand on here. 

He’s an adult, it’s his body. They can’t force him into anything.

They can’t!

“You’re under our protection Roger.” Deacy says, eyes blazing, never faltering one word. “We are going to keep you safe, whether you like it or not. If that means destroying everything remotely sharp in the whole of London, no problem. If that means strapping your stubborn arse to a chair and not letting you up until you talk to someone, then fine. If that means following you around every minute of every day and never giving you a moment's peace, so be it. You can kick and scream and throw as many tantrums as you want, I don’t care. I don’t care if you hate me. As long as you’re safe, you can hate me as much as you want.” 

When Deacon finishes his speech, his breathing is labored and his eyes are moist, but he holds strong. Nobody was expecting that outburst, least of all John himself. He meant every word of course, but he didn’t think it would all come rushing out. He normally has a strong hold over his emotions, but he figures given the context of the situation, he’s allowed an outburst or two. 

This isn’t easy, on any of them.

There are three sets of wide eyes staring at him, all the boys sitting in stunned silence, but he only acknowledges the blue ones. He stares the wide eyed Roger right down, not giving an inch. The drummer opens his mouth, and John prepares himself for a protest, but to his surprise, he doesn’t say anything. He opens and closes his mouth a few more times, as if he wants to speak, but can’t make his mouth form words. 

Eventually, he seems to give up on speaking, pressing his lips together, but not enough to stop his bottom lip from trembling. Deacy’s eyes widen as he realizes what’s about to happen a second before it does. A fresh tear falling down the drummers cheek, his eyes slipping closed, leaning forward and curling in on himself. 

The sound of Roger’s miserable sobbing echoes loudly through the kitchen. 

A sound that all of them have been hearing far too much recently. 

  
  
  
  



	23. Chapter 19: Doing a great job.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello
> 
> So. Um. Here we are again! I didn't think I was gonna get this done so fast but here it is!. I don't think this chapter is that good, it's 100% just filler, but I think you guys might like it regardless. I hope so anyway! I know you guys have been waiting for the fluff, and I hope I don't disappoint!
> 
> I don't have too much to say, but I do want to let you know that there may be a delay on the next chapter. My family is coming into town tomorrow and I am going to be pretty busy with them. I will try to write for you guys though. 
> 
> I think that's it, enjoy! Love you guys!

Roger doesn’t protest as multiple sets of hands gently grab him and start maneuvering him. There are soft voices mumbling around him, but he’s sobbing so heavily, he barely even registers them. They pull him up off of his chair, and begin leading him away from the kitchen, down one of the many long hallways. He goes willingly, but doesn’t open his eyes. 

He isn’t even sure why he’s crying, but he can’t stop. Something about John’s words just struck something inside of him. He feels so open and vulnerable and exposed, but also so seen and valued and loved. It’s terrifying and overwhelming, and it hurts, but it also feels so wonderful. 

Eventually, they stop moving, but he still doesn’t open his eyes, keeping his head ducked down. He can hear the sound of a tap being turned on, and feels a set of hands, maybe two, rubbing up and down his back. His chin is tilted up, tears still flowing freely down, and he flinches at the press of something warm and wet against his face. One of the hands that happens on his biceps tightens slightly to help stabilize him.

“Shh, it’s alright, mate. Just cleaning you off a bit.” Brians soft, low voice is surprisingly comforting. Roger finally realizes that the thing on his face is a wet hand towel, and he gives a valiant effort to stop crying. He manages to slow down, but not stop completely. 

The rag is pulled away, and Roger’s face feels slightly cold, but cleaner, which is nice. He does attempt to open his eyes, but the bathroom lights are too bright on his sensitive blues, and he shuts them immediately, which prompts a soft cooing noise from one of the others. Probably Freddie. 

He’s led away once again, a longer distance this time. When they stop, there are more voices speaking around him again, but he’s not paying attention. He whimpers when the hands let him go, he doesn't want them to go. Still crying softly, he makes a little noise of confusion as his arms are raised above his head. His shirt is gently nudged over his head and he shivers unhappily as a breeze hits him. 

“Hush now, it’s alright.” That’s John, and Roger whines again. Deacy might be mad at him, and he doesn’t want him to be mad. He doesn’t like fighting with John. He doesn’t like fighting with any of them. 

After a few moments, something soft and plush is pulled down over his head, and his arms are tugged through sleeves. It takes him a moment to realize that a jumper is being put on him, a giant, fluffy jumper. It’s at least two sizes too big by the feel of it. It’s incredibly comfortable, but it makes him feel like a kid, which makes him sniffle. 

“Bring him to me, lovies.” That’s Freddie’s voice, and Roger is being pulled along again. He’s slowly walked over, until his leg gently brushes against something solid. “Roger, Darling, you’re at the bed. Come here love, we’re going to just lay here and relax.” 

He passed into a set of hands that are too warm to belong to anyone other than the singer. He’s gently maneuvered until he’s laying down on a soft bed, Freddie’s arms securely wrapped around him, a plush blanket pulled over both of them. He sighs at the warmth around him, almost not even shaking anymore. Almost. He feels a hand run through his hair, and he burrows into Freddie’s chest, determined to get as much warmth and comfort as the singer was willing to give. 

“Oi! Where are you two off to?” The singer calls out, Roger whines at the outburst, pushing closer to Freddie, who shushes him. 

“We were just, uh..” Brian begins awkwardly, and Roger can practically hear Freddie rolling his eyes. 

“Get over here, both of you, you’re part of this too.” He says, a fake tone of annoyance in his voice, but there is an obvious softness to it. The bed dips, and suddenly there are more arms wrapped around the drummer. There is a collective sigh of content once everyone is snuggled up together, and Roger feels some of the tension melt away as he finally stops crying. 

Relaxed, protected and held, Roger is suddenly exhausted. This day has been overwhelming and draining and he is really starting to feel it. He lets out a small yawn, and blushes, and he can feel Freddie’s chest vibrating with laughter in front of him. 

“Sleep, love, it’s alright.” He whispers, Roger just barely feels a soft kiss on the top of his head as he falls asleep. He dreams of being surrounded by warm, soft clouds.

Safe.

xxxxxxx

When Roger wakes up, there is only one set of arms on him, though the feeling of warmth and safety hasn’t left. He’s so comfortable, he could most defineftly fall back asleep, but he probably shouldn’t. A nap is one thing, sleeping the whole day away is another.

He stiffens slightly, almost stretching but not quite, convincing himself to get up.

“Rog?” A voice calls softly next to his ear. “You awake, dear?” 

He makes a little hum of affirmation, rolling over to face towards the voice. He wants nothing more than to snuggle into the body in front of him, but he resists. He’s not sleeping more, he’s getting up. 

Maybe just one more minute won’t hurt. 

“You sure about that, love?” Freddie asks him with a gentle laugh. “You don’t seem to be very awake.” 

“Up.” Roger mumbles, eyes still closed, still making no effort to detach himself from Freddie or the bed. “‘M gettin up.” 

“Yes, I can see that, darling. You’re doing a great job of it.” Freddie tells him, unable to keep the smile off his face at the blondes antics. Roger groans, rather petulantly, wiggling closer, but he does finally open his eyes. Progress. 

He squints at the daylight filling the room, looks like it’s still fairly early out. When the world comes into focus, he’s met with the face of his best mate. Freddie’s mouth is split into a soft smile, not a cheeky one, but one of content and happiness. His warm brown eyes are swimming with love and affection, and it makes Rogers heart flutter, his face heating up slightly. 

“Hi.” Freddie whispers when he sees Roger focus on him. He gives the drummer a squeeze, Roger can feel his own mouth mirroring Fred’s. 

“Hi.” He whispers back. 

And for just a moment, one brief little moment, everything is honestly and truly alright.


	24. Chapter 20: A few more minutes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> one dump  
> one turd  
> two tits  
> john deacon.
> 
> Welcome back! 
> 
> I wasn't planning to get this done so quickly. But damn when inspiration hits it really hits lmao. What can i say, Roger and Freddie are wonderful muses. I am a little short on time, so I'm not gonna talk a lot.
> 
> I hope you all enjoy this, and I will try to post again soon! 
> 
> <3

“How long was I out?” Roger asks after a moment, the absence of the others in the room was almost nice until the previous events of the day were remembered. Given other circumstances this would have been a wonderful way to wake up. 

“Not long, dear. About an hour, maybe less.” He says in a noncommittal tone. Roger nods, making no move to get up.

“Where are Brian and Deacy?” 

“We didn’t know how long you’d be out, so we decided to take shifts, I’m not sure where they’re off to. I believe one of them went to jump in the shower or something like that?” He explains, his brows furrowing slightly towards the end, but he quickly recovers. “Anyway, that isn’t important right now. How are you feeling, love?”

Roger takes a moment to think. How is he feeling? He’s warm, and comfortable, and still fairly sleepy. Of course,that’s not what Fred’s asking. He means mentally, emotionally, how is Roger doing after everything.

“Better.” He eventually settles on the word, it seems to be the best fit. He’s not bad, not great, but better.“I feel better.” 

“You want to tell me what that was earlier, Darling?” The singer asks gently, accepting the answer as truth. “What got you so upset, I mean?” 

“Well I don’t have much of a choice do I?” Roger asks with a soft huff, but there's a smile on his face, which Freddie mirrors. 

“Not really, no.” He says, giving a little squeeze with the arm still draped over Rogers middle. “Honesty, right love?” Roger nods, taking a moment to collect his thoughts before speaking again. 

“I don’t really know exactly what happened, I think I just got overwhelmed. I thought I was alright, and then it just hit me, it was like a damn broke. It was too much, everything today all combined, it was too much.” He says, his voice quiet but even, anxiety growing slightly inside of him as the events of the morning replay in his head. 

“It has been a shit day, hasn’t it?” Freddie asks him sympathetically, he nods, casting his eyes down from the singer's face. 

“Does he hate me?” He asks in a small voice, not sure if he really wants to know the answer. 

“What?” Freddie’s voice is filled with confusion and concern, trying to push back to look at Roger, but the drummer doesn’t budge. “What are you talking about darling? Does who hate you?” 

“Deacy.” Roger’s eyes are closed, his voice barely audible. “Does Deacy hate me?” 

“Why would-” 

“He was so angry with me.” Roger mumbles out, opening his eyes but not looking at Freddie. “And I don’t blame him, you know? I don’t blame him for being mad, but I don’t want him to hate me.” 

Suddenly he is being pulled closer to Freddie’s chest, which is kind of an accomplishment because they were already cuddling fairly closely. Freddie’s warm arms tighten around him, making a gentle shushing noise. Roger lets himself be held, curling up to Freddie, hiding his face in the crook of the singer's neck.

“You hush now darling and listen to me.” Freddie's voice is soft, but his tone is completely serious. “John loves you, we all do. There is nothing you could ever do to make him, or any of us hate you, so you can put that nonsense out of your mind right this minute. Yes?” 

He waits, giving Roger a moment to nod his acknowledgement before continuing. 

“Deacy loves you,” He repeats, his tone considerably softer this time. “He’s just scared. He’s not angry with you, he’s angry at the situation. Someone he loves very dearly is suffering greatly, and he isn’t sure what to do. He doesn’t know exactly what he can do to help, he just knows he’s got to do something. He’s scared and overwhelmed, my dear. He hates what you’re going through, but he doesn’t hate you. He could never.” 

Roger is stunned into silence for a solid minute or two, Freddie’s words just processing in his head. They do make a lot of sense, maybe John doesn’t hate him after all. Maybe they’d all be okay. He feels relieved, but there's also a sense of guilt bubbling inside of him. 

“I’m sorry.” He whispers, feeling Freddie’s arms tighten around him. “I didn’t mean to scare you or make you worry. I’m sorry.” 

“Shhh, there’s no need for apology darling. “Freddie shushes him once again. “You’re clearly going through something awful, struggling to keep your head above water. You are in pain and that is not your fault. Now I don’t know what this burden you're carrying around with you right now is, love, but you know what I do know?” 

Roger shakes his head. 

“You won’t be carrying it alone anymore.” He promises, placing a kiss on the blonde's hair, wishing he could snap his fingers and take all the pain away. “Not on my watch.” 

“I love you Freddie.” He almost doesn’t hear the whisper, soft and muffled by his own neck. But luckily he does, and it fills him up with pleasant little butterflies. 

“I love you too, dear.” He says, rubbing his hand up and down the drummer's back, the plush fabric of the jumper feels soothing and soft against his fingers, he can only imagine how comfortable it must be to wear. “My best friend, my darling Roger.” 

They lay tangled up together for a little while longer, neither of them speaking, just enjoying each other's proximity. The cuddling is a recent development, but neither of them mind it at all. It’s comfortable to be here with each other. 

Peaceful. 

Safe. 

Frieddie feels Rogers' breathing growing slow and even and glances down. 

“Rog? Are you falling asleep, love?” Roger lets out a groan that sounds suspiciously like a no, but doesn’t move. Freddie smiles and tries once again, giving a little shake. “C’mon blondie, we should really get up.” 

“Am up.” Roger’s voice is grumpy and barely understandable, clinging tighter when Freddie attempts to move back. “Warm.” He grumps, earning a chuckle. “Comfy.” 

“Well, I suppose a few more minutes wont hurt.” Freddie concedes, absently wondering in the back of his mind if Roger had always been this adorable. 

And if so, how had he never noticed.


	25. Chapter 21: Definitely not adorable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyyyo!
> 
> I am so fucking sleepy right now we are gonna make this real quick. This chapter is a little longer. It is also filler. It is also garbage. I hate it as per usual. 
> 
> Let me know what you guys think, maybe you'll enjoy it. 
> 
> I promise we will get back into plot chapters soon. Probably. To be honestly I don't know what's coming. Chapters just happen as they happen. I have the ending planned out, but the middle is still a little bit fuzzy. 
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading and for always being amazing. I love you!

The boys didn’t spend the whole day in bed, though it was a tempting idea. They took their time getting up, but eventually both of their stomachs were rumbling insistently. So they begrudgingly pushed themselves out of bed. 

Roger yawned, stretching his arms up, running a hand through his own hair, which looked even more tousled than usual from his impromptu nap. Rogers' already small frame looked even tinier in the massive jumper. At least three sizes too big, it hit him at his mid thigh, and nearly hung off one of his shoulders. When he placed his hands back down by his sides, the sleeves were long enough to almost completely cover his hands, only the tips of his fingers poking out at the bottom. 

He frowns, bending his arms back up so that the sleeves fall down his arms again. It’s comfortable, but a bit annoying. He shakes them slightly, brows furrowed, maybe he can roll them up or something. 

“Where did we even get this?” He asks, fumbling with the puffy sleeves.”Freddie?” 

Freddie doesn’t answer, he’s a bit occupied with watching Roger. He knows it’s impolite to stare, but he can’t seem to tear his eyes away. Rogers' face is slightly tinged pink, not really a flush, just warm from sleep. His eyes slightly squinted, a frown on his pouty lips. 

It's completely adorable, and Freddie can feel his chest swelling with affection. Though it’s different than what he’s felt before. It doesn’t exactly feel like the kind you feel for friends, or even family. He’s always been affectionate with his mates, sitting on them, kissing them on the cheek, little things like that. 

But this feels kind of...different. 

Deeper. 

“Fred!?” The singer blinks when Roger calls his name again, louder this time. 

“Sorry, love, what was that?” Roger let’s out an irritated huff at the question. 

“Where did this come from? It’s massive!” The drummer holds up his arms, shaking them so the sleeves fall over his hands in demonstration. Freddie nearly chokes at how cute the blonde looks, hoping the faint blush that creeps onto his face isn’t noticeable. “You could fit two or three in this thing.” 

“Is that an invitation?” He asks, raising his eyebrows suggestively. 

“Freddie!” Roger exclaims in exasperation, rolling his eyes, though his cheeks darken a small bit. Freddie chuckles and decides to stop teasing him.

“We just wanted you to be comfortable, love.” The singer explains, reaching out to help Roger roll the sleeves back up. Roger huffs petulantly at him, but accepts the help. “Figured you’d be more comfortable in this than your clothes, hm?” 

  
  


“Yeah,” Roger shrugs, but concedes. “It’s pretty comfy I guess. Even if it makes me look ridiculous.” 

“You don’t look ridiculous, darling! Never!” Freddie actually sounds affronted, and Roger rolls his eyes. “You look great! Adorable in fact!” 

“I look like a bloody toddler playing dress up in his mum's clothes!” Roger frowns, the blush on his face deepening, and Freddie can’t help but grin at him. 

“As I said, adorable.” 

“Oh, sod off, git!” Roger growls out through gritted teeth, unhappy about the comment, Fred’s just taking the piss. He is a grown man and he doesn’t appreciate being called adorable .He isn’t. Freddie lifts his hands in surrender.

“Alright, alright love, calm down.” He says in an attempt to placate the blonde. “I’m sorry.” Roger stares him down a moment, he looks about two seconds from stomping his feet, which honestly isn’t helping his case. 

Freddie deliberately doesn’t voice that observation. 

xxxxx

When the two of them exit the bedroom, they are instantly hit with the smell of something delicious.They follow it to where Brian is currently setting the table. He looks up from the table with a smile. 

“There you are, sleepy heads, I was just about to come and get you.” He says, apparently he had been in the shower, his curls still damp and clinging to his face. 

“I wasn’t even sleeping!” Freddie complains indignantly. 

“Well it took you long enough to get out here, Deacy says lunch is just about ready.” Both men perk up upon hearing those words. Deacy cooking is always good news. Freddie gives some sort of reply, but Roger’s stopped listening, walking past his bandmates to the kitchen. 

Inside he finds John, tending to a pot on the stove. He starts to approach, but stops himself, still anxious that the bassist might be cross with him. Freddie said he wasn’t, and he sounded sincere, but what if he’s wrong. 

“Smells good.” He calls after a moment, regretting it when Deacy jumps, spinning around to face him. John doesn’t say anything, just looks at him, almost seeming frozen. A beat passes. Roger offers a small smile, John continues to stare at him. 

The silence grows louder.

“Um, sorry about before.” Roger begins awkwardly, not really sure what he wants to say, but wanting the moment to end. “I um, I know-” 

Before Roger can get another word out, John is right in front of him, apparently out of his stupor. He grabs Roger, and pulls, bringing him into a tight hug. Roger tenses in surprise, before relaxing in his friends embrace. 

“You aren’t mad anymore?” He asks in a whisper, feeling John's arms tighten around him. 

“I never was.” Is the quiet response, and Roger feels the anxiety finally easing away. They separate a few inches, and Deacy gives him a sheepish smile. “I’m sorry I upset you so badly, Rog.” 

“No, Deacs, it’s not your fault.” Roger says with a shake of his head. “You were just looking out for me, I get it. You have nothing to apologize for.” 

“Everything alright in here, darlings?” Freddie's voice rings through the kitchen, he enters, glancing back and forth between the two of them, brows raised. 

“Yeah,” Roger mumbles, sharing a little smile with Deacs. “Yeah, we’re good. Everything is fine.” 

Freddie studies him for a moment, and finding nothing but truth in his expression, smiles. He turns, walking towards the stove. 

“Good, because I was promised lunch.” Deacy’s eyes widen, he turns sprinting back over to the pot with a look of horror. 

“MY SOUP!” He cries, praying to the stars above it hasn’t burned. Brian, alerted by the yelling, enters the kitchen now too. 

“What’s going on?” He asks Freddie and Roger who are currently watching John desperately trying to salvage their lunch. They’d offer to help if either of them knew a damn thing about cooking. 

“Deacy’s soup died,” Freddie says solemnly. John tosses a quick glare over his shoulder, and Roger gives a little salute. “Rest in peace, lunch.” 

“Honestly you two,” Brian rolls his eyes, going over to offer his help. “Like bloody children.” 

xxxxx

Between the two of them, they manage to save the soup from burning. It’s soon distributed into bowls, and set at the table, along with some crusty bread, perfect for dipping. It’s a creamy tomato soup, and Rogers' mouth is practically watering from the heavenly smell. 

He cannot wait for this. 

He pulls out a chair, and frowns at the feeling of soft fabric encasing his hand. He looks and huffs upon seeing the sleeves of the jumper have fallen over his hands once again. This damn, giant thing. How’s anyone supposed to get anything done with this thing on? 

“Guys, problem.” He says, glancing up at the others who frown at him.

“What’s up mate?” Brian asks, tilting his head in confusion. 

“I can’t eat like this.” 

“Like what, darling?” Freddie also sounds confused, but mostly curious. 

“Like  _ this _ .” The blonde lifts his arms up, showing the way the sleeves engulf them. The others simply stare at him. “This damn thing is made for bloody elephants or something!” He complains, putting on an unhappy pout. 

“Oh, um, yeah might wanna go change then.” Brian finally says after a moment of silence. The others nod in agreement, adding their consent to Roger leaving. Still frowning, he turns and starts making his way back to his own room. 

Quietly grumping to himself the whole way. 

“Don’t take too long, dear, or I’m eating your soup.” Freddie calls after him. 

The drummer doesn’t look back, but raises one arm into the air, letting the sleeve fall back off of it, raising his middle finger. Freddie laughs at that, turning back to his own seat. He smiles at Brian and Deacs who are already digging into the warm bowls of broth. 

“Really Fred?” Brian asks, and Freddie's grin widens. 

“He loves me, really.” He says, bringing his spoon up to his mouth. Brian shakes his head, turning back to his own food, but he’s definitely smiling. 

Like children. 

Like bloody children. 


	26. Chapter 22: Questions without answers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!! 
> 
> I am back!
> 
> I am so so sorry for the delay on this chapter. Honestly this entire chapter kicked my fucking ass. It was such a struggling to get any work done on this thing I am shocked it gone done as quickly as it did. I will try my best to get the next one up faster. 
> 
> I hate this chapter! Guess why, It's very dialog heavy! I know I always say this but I am really REALLY not 100% on the dialog in this chapter. So let me know if you guys like it. 
> 
> I am like really nervous for people to read this I don't even know why. Maybe because it's been so long. 
> 
> Anyway! Enjoy hopefully! Or if you hate it like I do I'm sorry. 
> 
> <3 <3

Roger makes it back to his own room fairly quickly, eager to get back to the lunch that Deacy beautifully prepared. 

He pulled the jumper over his head as soon as the door was closed, shivering at the loss, immediately missing the plush fabric encasing him. As ridiculous and obnoxious as the jumper was, it was also very comfortable, and warm. He lets it fall to the floor in heap, thinking perhaps he could use it in the future for pajamas again or something. 

_ “Shame,”  _ Roger freezes mid step in his way to the wardrobe. That voice…. no…  _ “you really did look adorable in it, love.”  _

For several moments, Roger can’t seem to move, his mind racing. He’d honestly forgotten about the voice in his head. Which sounds completely ludicrous, how does one just forget that?! In fairness though, it had already been a long, stressful, overwhelming day, and it wasn’t even past lunch yet. 

It somehow managed to slip his mind.

But now it’s back and happening again. 

_ “Roger, breathe darling, you need to breathe.”  _ The voice of Freddie reminds gently, tone even and patient. Roger didn’t even feel his lungs burning until it was pointed out to him. He sucks in a gasp of air, then a few more. He scanned his eyes around the room, finding nothing but not really expecting to. Feeling shaky but trying to remain somewhat steady on his feet.

“You cant…” He begins, struggling to find the words. “”How can...What the hell?” 

_ “Eloquent as always, dear.”  _ The amusement is clear in the voice, and Roger would probably be offended if he wasn’t so busy panicking. 

“What the hell is going on??” He hisses out to the open air, heart hammering away in his chest.

_ “I will explain once you calm down.”  _ The voice informs him, tone serious again.  _ “Now take some deep breaths and try to relax.”  _

“Relax? Oh sure I’ll just do that,” He says sarcastically, voice a little breathless from the anxiety. 

_ “Are you alright?”  _ The voice asks eventually once Roger has reached at least some degree of calm. 

“I want answers.” He grits out, between tightly locked teeth, a mix of tension and irritation. “What have you been? And why are you back?” 

_ “Oh, love, you aren’t happy I’m back?”  _

“Freddie!” He hisses out, so completely not in the mood for games. 

_ “Alright, alright. “  _ The disembodied Freddie concedes with a soft chuckle.  _ “I’m just happy to be back with you love, I’ve missed you.” _

“Where have you even been?” 

_ “I’m afraid I can’t tell you that, dear.”  _ The answer comes after a moment's hesitation. Roger’s mouth twists into a scowl, his fists clenching by his sides. He can feel the anger bubbling up inside of him. 

“Fuck off!” He growled out, head halfway tilted towards the ceiling, he didn’t think Freddie was necessarily floating around above him, but it just felt right. “Don’t you fucking play mind games with me!” 

_ “But, Darling, I am literally inside of your mind.”  _ The voice jests, clearly having too much fun, continuing to speak before Roger could start swearing again.  _ “Calm down, Rog, I’m only having a bit of fun. I’m sorry.”  _

Roger takes a deep breath, feeling it rattle in his chest, his body shaking slightly from the anger. It takes considerable effort, but he manages to relax at least a little bit. Freddie, or the voice of him at least, gives him a moment before speaking again. 

_ “I’m sorry, Darling, really I am, but I can’t tell you where I’ve been. There are rules to this, and I’ve already broken one of them.”  _ Roger frowns, but this one is more of confusion than anger, though there is some of that mixed in as well. He wants to keep up his aggression, but his curiosity is slowly but surely winning over. 

“Rules to what?” 

_ “Why, to our interactions of course, love.”  _ Comes the response, as if to say isn’t it obvious. Rogers frown only deepen. 

“Who’s rules?” 

_ “Spoilers, love, it’s not time for you to know that yet.”  _

“Freddie!” He means to sound threatening, but it comes out as more exasperated than anything. “You can’t just show up and start gabbing about ‘rules’ and ‘spoilers’ and shit and then just leave me with nothing! You have to give me something! Why were you gone?” 

A silence hangs in the air, and Roger can practically feel Freddie’s hesitation as he contemplates what to say, or if he should say anything. Roger can feel his anxiety slowly growing the longer it goes on, more afraid of the answer coming the longer he waits. 

The idea that Freddie might beat around the bush and try to play the whole thing off is frustrating and infuriating. The idea that he might leave again, leaving Roger with no answers and no contact is surprisingly terrifying. 

_ “I was reprimanded,”  _ Comes the eventual, measured response.  _ “I was not allowed to speak to you for a while.”  _

Roger blinks, some more of the anger fading away as the pleasure of being given an actual answer, no matter how vague sets in. He lets out a sigh, nodding his encouragement to the voice, fully intent on milking everything out of this that he could. 

“You were only gone a few hours, must not have been that big of a rule you broke.” He tries to sound casual, but really he is nonchalantly trying to gather information. 

_ “Time passes differently for me, love.”  _

“Really? How much so?” 

_ “No, no, that’s enough now.”  _ Roger absolutely does not pout at the line of questioning ending.  _ “I probably shouldn’t have even said that about the time..”  _

“Are you going to get in trouble again?” Roger asks, feeling slightly guilty at the idea. He hadn’t meant to make Freddie break rules, but can he really be blamed for his curiosity? 

_ “Are you worried about me, darling? Oh, bless.”  _ Roger rolls his eyes, about to make some remark back, but Freddie continues before he can.  _ “I seriously doubt I will, though I appreciate your concern sweetheart.”  _

“What rule did you even break?” He thinks the question is innocent enough, maybe he could use the information to help keep Fred out of trouble in the future. Another hesitant silence settles in and he huffs. “C’mon, Fred, you can’t even tell me what you did? Did it involve me? Did I do something?” 

_ “Not exactly, no.”  _

“Then talk to me, Freddie, what happened!?” 

_ “I saved your life.”  _ Comes the quiet response after a moment of hesitation.  _ “That’s the rule I broke.”  _

Roger barely has time to process the words before someone knocks at his bedroom door, causing him to jump. 

“Roger, you okay in there, mate?”


	27. Chapter 23: Open the door

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! 
> 
> This chapter didn't take me a million years yay! I hope you all enjoyed the return of Voice Freddie in the last one. The fluff was wonderful to write, but we must get back to the angst now lmao, forgive me. 
> 
> I hope you all enjoy this chapter, it a struggle, but it was fun to write. 
> 
> Last but definitely not least: Happy Birthday to my muse Roger Taylor! Even at age 71 he is still a whole ass cutie. Make sure you guys send him some love!!

Roger let’s the silence hang in the air for definitely longer than what’s acceptable. 

He can feel a slurry of different emotions stirring within himself. Still feeling confused and slightly bewildered by his conversation with the voice of Freddie, he also feels annoyed at the interruption, but somewhere in the back of his mind also flattered that they had come to check on him. 

And on top of all that, he’s also still really damn hungry. 

It’s overwhelming, and for a moment he feels frozen in place, too many thoughts, unable to lock on to any one of them. The knocking starts up again, and he uses the sudden noise to pull himself out of his state. 

“Rog?” That’s Deacy’s voice, softly slipping through the door. “Everything alright?” 

_ “You should probably answer him, love.”  _ The disembodied voice gently encourages, and Roger clears his throat. 

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine.” He calls back Deacy, his voice isn’t as steady as he was hoping, but he’d have to deal with it. Hopefully it would be enough to persuade John. 

“Are you sure?” Dammit. “You don’t sound fine.” 

Roger takes a deep breath to calm himself, and tries again. 

“I’m fine.” To his relief, he does sound much more genuine this time “I’m good Deacs, I promise. Everything is fine.” 

“....Open the door, Roger.” Comes the careful response after a beat of silence. Deacy’s tone is gentle, with a hint of a plea in it. Roger frowns, eyebrows raising slightly. 

“What? Why?” He asks, confused by the request. He’d told them he was going to get dressed, so it was only natural the door would be closed. True, they had all seen way too much of each other at one time or another, but still, he felt entitled to a little bit of privacy. 

“Please just open the door?” 

_ “He wants to check on you, dear.”  _ The voice of Freddie supplies at the same moment that Roger’s brain seems to catch up with the situation.  _ “Make sure you aren’t hurting yourself.”  _

Roger’s frown deepens, unhappy with the reminder. He knows it’s his own fault, he did that to himself, but it’s not something he likes thinking about outside of the moment. He needs it sometimes, but he’s not proud of himself for it. 

“Roger!” A louder call of his name brings him back to the present. 

“Huh?” He answers dumbly, hearing the doorknob jiggle.

“Roger, let me in.” John’s voice has become decidedly more serious, and Roger winces slightly at it. 

“Hold on.” Comes his quiet response. He’d like to take a moment to fully compose himself, and more than that, he isn’t prepared for the conversation with Freddie to be over so quickly. He still has too many questions. 

“Open the door. Now.” It isn’t a request this time, it’s a command. 

“Rog, darling, open up, please.” Comes a second voice from beyond the door. Roger grits his teeth, anxiety and irritation both rising. Unsure of how to feel about this Freddie, now having been confronted by the voice of a dead one. 

It’s a fucking headache, that’s for sure. 

“Yeah, gimmie a second.” He grumbles, just loud enough for them to hear. He isn’t ready to come out yet, they are going to have to wait. 

_ “Don’t be stupid, love.”  _ The voice says with an audible sigh.  _ “Just open the door, let them in.”  _

“I don’t recall asking you for your opinion.” He girts out, his whispered voice concealed by the continued knocking. 

_ “You’re just being a stubborn moron, and you know nothing good ever comes out of that!”  _

“Roger!” The word rings out louder this time, cutting off his conversation once again. 

“God, what?!” He groans not even trying to hide his irritation at this point. 

“Just open the door!” Comes the response, concerned and insistent. 

_ “Do as they say, dear.” _

“No.” He answers both parties with a single response, only receiving one back from behind the door. 

“Roger..” 

“No, fuck you!” He yells, stepping closer to the door, stopping in front of it. “You don’t own me! You don’t get to just boss me around and control me like I’m some bloody child! Fuck off!” 

“Roger, darling, you’re scaring us.” Comes Freddie’s gentle response after just a second or two. “Please let us in, we’re worried about you.” 

“Then worry.” Roger snaps, still seething. “I’ll come out when I’m damn good and ready.” 

Who the hell do they think they are? He isn’t doing anything to himself, and even if he was, it’s his body and his life. It’s none of their damn business, any of them, so they can fuck right off. 

He waits for the response, but for a few moments nothing happens. The only noise being his own heavy breaths, and some light shuffling behind the door. He ignores it, taking a seat on the edge of his bed, intent on waiting them out. 

He’d let them in when he was ready, and not a moment sooner.

“Roger.” John’s voice is low and deliberate, a tone that nearly sends a chill down the drummers spine. Deacy was generally a gentle, easy going man. But when he got heated enough, he could be downright scary. “Freddie has gone to get the master key, this is your last chance. Open the door, or we’ll open it for you.” 

Roger grips the sheets under him, biting at his lip, conflicted. He’s still irritated, but now it’s mostly being overshadowed by his nerves and anxiety.

He isn’t ready to see the others, he doesn’t know what to say to them, or how to explain himself. He can’t very well tell them about the voice of Freddie without telling them everything, and he is definitely not prepared for that conversation. 

He probably never will be. 

There is more shuffling behind the door, some muffled voices. 

_ “We’ll talk again soon, love.” _ The promise is softly spoken in his mind a split second before the lock clicks, and it slowly swings open. 

Roger comes face to face with his three bandmates. Brian’s face twisted into a worried frown, John eyes blazing, Freddie’s cheeks stained with tears. The blonde looks down at the carpet after a quick glance at all of them, biting his lip harder. A new emotion adding itself to the storm already going crazy inside of him. 

Guilt. 


	28. Chapter 24: Heated and Hatred.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello hello! 
> 
> This chapter is angsty as fuck, just to warn you guys. That wasn't the plan but it just kind of happened that way. Hopefully you guys are ready lol. 
> 
> Thank you all so much for your continued support. I hope you will continue to enjoy the story. I promise there will be more fluff in the future, but here is this for now. I'm not sure when the next chapter will be done, but I'll try be quick. 
> 
> I'm sorry I keep making John an asshole I swear I don't mean to, that's just how I end up writing. He's either an asshole or cooking, I don't know why that's his whole character but I apologize lmao.

John is the first one to act. 

He pushes past Freddie, grabbing Roger and pulling him to his feet. Roger doesn’t protest or even look up from the carpet as he’s manipulated into different positions for inspection. His eyes slip closed as he’s pulled into different poses, he can feel the other three watching him intently. 

“He’s clean.” Deacy mutters to the other two, stepping away after a few moments. “He’s a bloody wanker, but he’s clean.” 

The very next second a pair of warm, shaking arms wrap around him, and Roger can tell who’s they are before a single word is spoken.

“Oh, love!” Freddie gasps out, squeezing tightly into the drummer, desperately gripping onto him. “Roger! Oh my god, I was so worried!” 

Roger can’t find words to respond with, he just stands there letting the singer hug him. He doesn’t know what to say, or what he should say. He should probably apologize or something. 

Eventually he’s pushed back slightly, warm brown eyes wet with tears seek out his own. But after just a second of eye contact with Freddie,

Roger finds himself unable to keep it up. His feeling of guilt grows, he hadn’t meant to stress Freddie out. 

“Roger, what was that?” Brian asks over Freddie’s shoulder, voice surprisingly calm. Roger feels himself shrug, not lifting his eyes. 

“Nothing.” He mumbles out, not really having a better explanation. 

“Don’t give us that bullshit.” John’s voice is low and deliberate, and makes Roger want to shrink into himself and hide, but he stands still where he is. 

“No, really, I wasn’t doing anything.” He says, a moment of silence gives him courage to sneak a glance up at his bandmates. They are all staring back at him with open skepticism. Deacy opens his mouth but Roger quickly continues, gesturing to his own body. “Honest! I’m clean, you saw me I’m clean.” 

“Well then what the bloody hell was that?” He asks, but not before giving a few moments of silence. His eyes fixed on Roger in a hard stare. “What were you doing in here?” 

“Nothing.” 

“Roger..” The name is practically growled out and Roger can feel a slight chill down his spine. 

“I just wanted more time.” He quickly gets out before the bassist has a chance to continue. 

“Time for what, Darling?” Freddie speaks up again, soundly thankfully more put together this time. Rogers' brain scrambles for a moment.

“Nothing, not for anything, just time.” He mumbles out with another shrug, trying to seem nonchalant. It’s partially a lie, but also partially not. He honestly had wanted a moment to himself after all of the stress of the morning, but he mostly just wanted to finish his conversation with Freddie. 

Or the other Freddie. 

How would he ever be able to explain the whole situation to any of them when none of it even makes any damn sense in his own mind… 

“I see.” John's voice cuts through his thoughts, bringing him back to the present. “So you just decided to make us all worry ourselves sick, for no reason.” 

Roger feels a pang of guilt burst inside of him. He didn’t mean to. 

He really didn’t. 

“I didn’t-“ 

“Freddie was a mess.” John cuts have off, tone of voice just as unforgiving as before. “A right mess, nearly broke the door down. Brimi had to physically hold him back, and the two of us weren’t doing much better. If he hadn’t suggested getting the master key, I would have broken bones trying to get in.” His voice grows colder with every word, and Roger wants to break down and cry by the end of it. 

“Deacs..” Brian attempts to interject, but he quickly get spoken over. 

“So I’m glad to know all that terror and urgency was a complete waste of time. We thought you were struggling, on the verge of doing something terrible, and needing us. But it turns out, you’re just a selfish bastard who can’t inconvenience himself for two seconds by opening his door to give his best friends piece of mind. That’s good, glad to know. Excuse me. ” 

Deacy finishes his rant, and then turns on his heel and stalks away from the room without another word. He doesn’t spare a glance back at Roger or any of the others as he leaves. Roger slips his eyes closed feeling tears starting to form in them again. as Brian and Freddie stand in stunned silence. 

Neither of them are sure what to do for a moment, that was unexpected, probably even by Deacy. Both of them are torn between running after him and telling him how out of line he was, because no question that he was, and consoling Roger who still seems to be processing the words. 

“Rog..” One of them begins, though he isn’t paying attention to which one. 

Roger’s eyes snap open, his fists clenched by his sides, his teeth mashed together in his mouth. He can feel the guilt and shame and stress bubbling up inside of himself. All of it mixing up into a terrible cocktail of emotion that he’s felt before, but never in this way, never directed at himself. 

Hatred. 

He hates himself. He hates what he’s done to his friends. He hates that his stupid brain can’t deal with the situation. He hates that the others have to suffer because of his issues. He hates that he can’t trust his own mind. He hates himself for self harming, and he hates the fact that he needs to do it again. 

He focuses on the two men in front of him, both looking concerned and sympathetic at the same time, and he bites back the tears wanting to escape him. He can’t deal with their compassion right now, he doesn’t deserve it. He needs to be alone right now, away from their questioning eyes. 

“Oh, fuck off.” He grits out, hearing the false anger in his voice, and hating himself even more for it. Brians eye’s widen at the words, and Freddie recoils as if he’s been smacked. They don’t deserve this at all, but he continues. “All of you lot, just leave me the hell alone. I said I’d stop and have I cut myself since? No, I bloody well haven’t. So a little trust would be fucking lovely. Now, for those interested, I am going to go and take a shower, and no, that isn’t an open invitation to come and bother me again. “ 

He pushes past them biting his lip, their hurt expressions burned into his mind. Just one more thing to hate himself over. He hurt his friends, deliberately. Add it to the ever growing list of why he’s an awful human being. 

He somehow manages to hold back his sobs until he’s under the stream of water. 


	29. Chapter 25: Shower thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh, hey, lol. 
> 
> I am so so so so so so so so sorry this took me so long to get done. My brain has been refusing to cooperate with me on writing. I had so much trouble getting this chapter going. I am not really sure how I feel about it honestly. I am leaning towards hating it, but I mean that's not new. a
> 
> This is not on hiatus or being discontinued I promise, sometimes it just takes me a while to get the writing done. Sorry guys, I'll try my best to get the next one up quicker. Man I feel so bad it's been like two weeks D:
> 
> Anyway! Let me know what you guys think! I always appreciate your comments and feedback, I love you guys so much. 
> 
> Side note, my tumblr is: mercurymaemeddows if you want to come and say hi. I don't really care about getting lots of followers tbh, but I figured I should tell you guys what it is lol. You can always reach out if you wanna chat, even if you just wanna bug me about writing more. 
> 
> Alright, I'm shutting up and getting to the chapter now! Buckle up, it's a dialog chapter(kill me)!

For several long moments, Roger doesn’t move, he just stands there, tears streaming down his face. His body trembles with his crying, despite the warm temperature of the water. The steamy air feels heavy in his lungs as he tries to regulate his breathing. 

He doesn’t want to think about what he just did. What he just said. The hurt, shocked expressions on his friends faces.

He doesn’t wanna think about it. 

_ “Roger?”  _ Freddie's voice rings softly in his mind, filled with concern.  _ “Are you alright, love?”  _

Roger shakes his head, his blonde locks spewing drops of water, taking a moment to collect his thoughts. 

He doesn’t wanna talk about it. 

“Freddie?” He whispers out, quiet and shaky, knowing the sound of the shower is probably covering up his voice well enough from anyone who might be outside the bathroom. “Tell me what happened.” 

He’s met with a prolonged silence, and he glances up towards the ceiling, though he’s unable to keep his eyes open for long from the tears and steam. When he doesn’t get an answer takes in a shuddering sigh and continues. 

“I deserve to know, Fred.” 

_ “Rog..”  _

“No, tell me.” 

_ “You really wanna talk about me right now, darling?”  _ Comes the response, gentle and caring.  _ “You think that's a good idea?”  _

“I wanna talk about anything that isn’t what just happened in my room.” He hisses, eyes scrunching closed. His hand clawing at the show wall in an attempt to ground himself. 

“Tell me.” He tries to demand but it definitely comes off as far too desperate to be anything but a plea. “I clearly did something, and whatever that sometimes is, it’s affecting you. Even if I hadn’t done anything, I’m involved. So please, just tell me.” 

_ “Alright, darling.”  _ Freddie concedes after a slight bit of hesitation.  _ “I can’t tell you everything, I’m afraid. I wasn’t lying before, there really are rules to this, certain things I’m not allowed to divulge. It’s not that I want to be so infuriating vague, I just really can’t say much.”  _

He does sound genuinely apologetic, which is a nice change of pace from the teasing from before. Roger frowns, wanting to press for more information, understandably curious about the afterlife. Though he simply nods his understanding instead of speaking, honestly trying to be cooperative. 

If Freddie would try, then so would he.

“Then just tell me what you can, Fred, even if it’s only the bare minimum.” 

_ “Alright, well for starters, love, what do you remember from earlier?”  _

“Quite a bit more than I’d like to..” Roger’s mumbles, a fresh pang of guilt coming up, not very happy with the reminder of what he did. He hurt his friends, his family, and he would never forgive himself for it. 

_ “No, not that darling.”  _ Freddie cuts off his line of thinking.  _ “The bathroom, what do you remember from your incident in the bathroom today?  _

This makes Roger’s stomach twist for a different reason, his frown deepens. 

What did he remember of that? Honestly, not much, it was all a bit of a blur. He remembered the all consuming.panic and sorrow, how it was practically suffocating him. He couldn’t just sit there and let it. 

His brain sort of blanked out at that point. 

But he remembered the pain. 

The sharp, stinging feeling of the blade against his skin. The feeling of the tension breaking slightly more and more with each cut. Needing more once he’d gotten a little bit, more of the relief. The overwhelming amount of red, everything in his limited vision stained red.

“I remember the pain,” He eventually settles on. “And the blood.” 

_ “Do you remember how bad it was?”  _ Comes the careful prompt. “ _ How much damage you actually did?” _

“What do you mean? It wasn’t even that bad. Quick bandage and I was good to go, didn’t even need to go to hospital or anything.” 

  
  


_ “No darling, that isn’t quite true. It was much worse than it actually looked.”  _ Freddie sounds oddly sad in relaying this information.  _ “You struck your femoral artery, love. You could have bled out in less than two minutes.”  _

Roger blinks, taken aback by this. If he wasn’t paying full attention before, he certainly is now. 

“What, no that’s not possible, it was just a few scratches, look!” He thrusts his left hip out as if to give the voice of Freddie a good look at it. The cuts were visible of course, but not terrible. Definitely not the sort of thing to make a guy bleed out within seconds. “I was fine, well not exactly fine, but you know what I mean. I wasn’t-”

_ “I stopped it, dear.”  _ Roger can practically picture Freddie in his head, holding a hand up to silence him, as he often did when the blonde went on long rambles.  _ “I saved you.”  _

Roger doesn’t speak for a moment, his brain playing catch up, trying to process the words, to make them make sense. And then it clicks. 

“That’s the rule you broke.” He says, finally understanding. “That’s why you were gone.” 

_ “I couldn’t help myself. You were so determined, you were almost crazed. You wouldn’t listen or talk to me, it was like you couldn’t even hear me. I didn’t have a choice, I couldn’t let you die.”  _

A fresh wave of guilt runs over the drummer. So he was responsible like he thought he was. He really hadn’t meant to cause anyone any trouble, in any of this. He just couldn’t seem to sort his stupid head out. He should be able to handle his own damn thoughts, and now Freddie’s gotten himself in trouble over it. 

He really is awful isn’t he?

“What did they do to you Fred?” He asks in a quiet voice. He’s not sure he even really wants to know the answer, but he needs to. “Did they hurt you?”

_ “Relax, darling, I’m already dead, there really isn’t much more they can do to me.”  _

“You said you were punished.” 

_ “Eh, reprimanded would be more accurate. I was given a talking-to, forced to spend some time apart from you.That was the worst part, honestly.”  _

“How long?” Roger asks, secretly hoping Freddie doesn’t notice his probing for information about the other side.

_ “Spoilers, love, can’t say,”  _ Damn, he notices, of course he notices.  _ “Quiet long enough.”  _

“Well, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to get you in trouble, Fred.” He apologizes sincerely, subconsciously curling into himself a little tighter. 

_ “It’s alright, darling, some good came out of it anyway.”  _ Comes the reassurance, Roger frowns skeptically.

“And what’s that?”

_ “I made a bit of a deal up here, to ensure the rule doesn’t get broken again. I gave up my ability to physically affect things in your world, and in exchange, I can basically talk to you as much as I please now. No more fading out after a few words, we can have actual conversations now.”  _

Yeah, Roger supposes that is good news, considering the fucked up context that is his life right now. 

More Freddie, in whatever form he comes in, definitely sounds like a good thing. 


	30. Chapter 26: I tried, but I can't

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!
> 
> Do I get points for not talking two weeks to update?!
> 
> I should not be posting his right now tbh. I just spent like hours writing this and I haven't slept yet and I should have just left it and worked on it later but I am stubborn and didn't want to stop until it was done. So now it's probably super rushed and poorly written. Fuck my life. 
> 
> I hate this chapter who would have guessed. 
> 
> I may honestly end up deleting this chapter. I don't know I'm pretty much just posting this out of pure stubbornness. I'm very tired and I just want to hit post roll over and pass tf out. 
> 
> Let me know what you guys think Maybe you'll like it. Idk i dont think my brain is working too well rn. Becasue tired. Is this note really long? It feels long. oh well. 
> 
> I love you guys, I love you all a lot. I'm so thankful to everyone who reads my work and leaves me comments and kudos. It's incredible seeing the support. <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

Deacy was pacing back and forth in his room. 

His teeth were mashed together, mouth pressed into a hard line, eyes fixed on the carpet below him. Despite his calm expression, his heart was pounding in his chest. He feels the anxiety twisting up his insides making him want to vomit. 

Why was all of it so bloody difficult? Why did Roger have to be so stubborn? Why couldn’t he just let them help? Why couldn’t he help? 

He feels himself take a sharp inhale involuntarily as those words crossed his mind, because that’s what it came down to in the end wasn’t it? John just wants to help his friend, but no matter what he does he just seems to make things worse. 

A pang of hurt courses through him, and he unconsciously starts pacing faster, as if trying to physically outrun his thoughts. 

After some indeterminate amount of time had passed, he turned back around to find that he was no longer alone. There were two pairs of legs standing on the other side of the room. He pauses for a moment, before ignoring them, carrying on as if he hadn’t seen them at all. Even though he's fairly certain they already know he’s noticed them. 

“Deacy.” That’s Brian, gentle as always, seemingly the voice of reason in all this mess.

“Deacs..” He tries again, more firmly this time when John doesn’t stop or look at him. This time he gives a small grunt , an acknowledgement, but definitely not opening up a conversation. 

“John!” Freddie this time, and Deacy actually stops, turning to face them finally. The sigh that huffs out of his mouth isn’t meant to be rude, or even really directed at them. It’s more so just his reluctance to talk right now manifesting itself in an audible outburst. He hopes they understand and don’t take it personally. 

“What?” He asks flatly, keeping his expression neutral. 

“What do you mean, ‘what?’” Freddie's usually warm voice rising a full octave from the stress of the day. “What the hell is wrong with you?!” John grits his teeth, because apparently a lot. 

“If you just came in here to shout at me you can fuck off.” He mutters, not in the mood to deal with Fred’s theatrics. 

“No, we came in here to talk.” There Brian, being his calm, collected self again. It makes Deacy’s blood boil.

Who the hell does Brian think he is? Remaining calm under all this pressure. Staging stable enough to not only keep his own head above water, but helping the others stay afloat as well. Why did he have to be so put together? Why wasn’t he in turmoil just like everyone else? 

“Well, I don’t want to talk to either of you right now,” He grits out, not caring if he’s being rude this time. “So kindly leave me the bloody hell alone.” 

“No.” 

“Brian..”

“No, John, no.” Brian cuts him off, tone serious but just as infuriating calm as before, never raising or tensing. “No, we won’t leave you alone, because right now we all need to be on the same page. Roger needs our help, and he wont get it if-”

“I can’t help him!” John suddenly explodes with a shout, throwing his hands in the air, feeling all the frustration and stress flooding through him. “Don’t you get it, I can’t help him! I’ve tried, over and over I’ve tried, and I just keep making it worse! You know the only way I can help Roger at this point? Packing my shit and never talking to him again!” 

The others stare at him in stunned silence for a second, clearly not having expected that reaction. These emotional outbursts seem to be happening more and more today, he really needs to get a hold of himself. Brian opens his mouth, but John isn’t done speaking. 

  
  


“I’m the one who said Roger would work out his problems on his own when he was clearly struggling. I’m the one who told Freddie to give him space when they desperately needed to sit down and talk. I’m the one who made him break down at the table today when we should have been comforting him through his pain. And I’m the one who just shouted at him when he’s this vulnerable, and for what? Because he just wanted some personal space.” He trails off, voice growing shakier and more miserable the longer he talks. He didn’t realize he was crying until he saw a tear hitting the carpet below him. 

“Deacs..” 

“I tried..” He meets the others eyes again, barely seeing them, his vision blurry from the moisture. “God knows I tried to help him, but all I’ve done is make things worse. No matter what I do, what I try, it just ends up wrong. It ends up with Roger being hurt again, and I don’t know how much more hurt he can take..”

He takes a shuddering breath as arms multiple wrap around him, pulling himself against warm, solid flesh.”You’re right, Bri, he needs help, but he clearly can’t get it from me. I’ll only hurt him more.” He whispers, a hand rubbing soothingly over his back. 

“Shhhh, John, shhhh.” Brian shushes, while both him and Freddie offer small rubs and squeezes of comfort. “Take a deep breath, and just settle down, it’s alright.” 

They spend a few moments consoling the distressed bassist. Giving him time to get his tears out, letting him collect himself. He feels better having gotten it off of his chest, but he still feels pretty dreadful.

“I know this is hard on you, Deacy, it’s been hard on all of us.” Brian's soothing voice fills his ears. “Absolutely nothing about this situation is easy, and it’s not exactly like we have a Roger instruction manual to consult. All of us tried giving Roger space. That was not just you, and definitely not your fault in any way. You’re right that you shouldn’t have yelled at him, but you’re not feeling yourself right now, none of us are. Roger will forgive you, he probably already has, but you’ve got to forgive yourself now. I know it’s easy to feel hopeless and overwhelmed, and like there’s no way back from this dark place, but you cannot under any circumstances give in to those worries Deacs.”

“Roger needs us, dear.” Freddie chimes in softly, tone much less abrasive than before. “And like you told me, we’re going to stay strong, for him. Because he needs help, and right now we’re all he has. We aren’t perfect, love, we don’t always know what to say or do, we’ve done a lot wrong and we’re going to do a lot more wrong, but it’s going to be okay.” 

Deacy sniffles, letting himself be held. It’s difficult to hear, but he nods, knowing that they’re right. He can’t get so hung up on himself, he has to pull himself together, for Rogers sake. Whatever hiccups they faced along the way, they’d find some way to overcome them. 

“We’re going to get through this together, because we’re a family, but we can’t do it without you.” 

  
  


xxxxxxx

  
  
  


Roger’s hair was still slightly damp when his head hit his pillow. 

He felt better now that he was clean and in fresh clothes. He sighs, suppressing a small shiver at the air around him, his newly showered skin more sensitive to the cold. Now that he wasn’t stressing over Freddie, or the voice of Freddie in his head or whatever, he was mostly just worried about the others. 

He had been awful to them, and he hadn't exactly been cooperating before that. He didn’t mean to cause any of them any stress or worry. He felt guilty for putting his loved ones through all this. He needed to be more careful in the future, he had to try and keep it together, if not for himself, for his family. 

His eyes traced over the patterns in the ceiling tile, the soft glow of the light fixture, the small shadows it cast. Despite his recent nap, he felt tired. Maybe it was the lack of food, maybe it was the stress, or maybe subconsciously he just didn’t want to be awake. Whatever it was, he felt his eyelids drooping. 

“Freddie?” He half whispers so as not to be overheard, wishing for company. 

_ “Yes, Roger, dear?”  _ He’s glad to have the voice of Freddie back with him,, he truly is. It helps in moments like this when he really doesn’t want to be alone but he can’t very well get one of the others. 

“‘M sleepy.” 

_ “Then you should rest, love.”  _

“Stay with me?” He asks hopefully, brows drawing up in question. 

_ “Always, darling, I’ll always be with you. Sleep, I’ll be right here when you wake up.” _

Roger hums at the confirmation, eyes slipping closed, snuggling into his blanket. The bed feels slightly too big with just him in it, but at least he has some form of Freddie to keep him company. 

He dozes off to Freddie softly singing love of my life, in his head.y


	31. Chapter 27: It's not working

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A new chapter in under a week!?
> 
> What black magic is this?
> 
> I want to warn you guys, agnst is back in full force in this one. I know the last few have kind of been up there, this one is bad. I almost feel bad for writing this honestly, my boys don't deserve any of this but oh well. 
> 
> I'm not gonna make this long, the last note was long enough lol. I just wanna say thank you so much for all the support and wonderful comments. I'm still not sure how I feel about the last chapter, but I'm glad you guys liked it. I love you guys <3

It’s been a surprisingly quiet few days. 

Roger hasn’t seen much of the others at all, though to be fair he hadn’t left his room much. He’d spent a great deal of time sleeping, tired for seemingly no reason. Between naps he passed the time by talking to Freddie, trying to coax what information out of him he could. wasn’t much, but the scraps here and there sated his curiosity. 

When he did see the others, it was usually fleeting glances. Freddie had asked if he was okay, and they talked for a moment but he hurried off fairly quickly. He’d seen John in the kitchen yesterday, a small grunt and a nod was all he received before the bassist left with tea in hand. Brian had been the only one to linger, making small talk, and even offering Roger a hug. Roger was surprised, the gentle contact almost making him cry, but he held back.

It was nice, it made Roger feel almost normal for a moment. He held in a whimper as Brian pulled away, not wanting the moment to end. 

Mostly he just felt hurt and sad. 

He didn’t blame them for not wanting to be around him, especially John, but it still hurt. He knew it was his own fault. He hadn’t been easy to put up with recently, and knows they deserve a break from the stress of being his friend. Plus, he had literally demanded space from them when they had been so loving and tried to help him. 

He couldn’t just go ask them to spend time with him now, he doesn’t deserve it, and they clearly don’t want to. So he just left them alone. 

He had so far held back from harming himself anymore, mostly due to Freddie’s soft voice in his ear, though the temptation was there. His head was full of bad, heavy thoughts. They weighed him down and made him feel sluggish and shitty. He felt the need for release, for the relief and clarity and only seemed to come from self inflicted injury. 

He shouldn’t, really he shouldn’t, but he just had to. He couldn’t explain why, but he needed it, he deserved it.

He lay in his bed, the only thing he seems to do lately, Freddie rambling about something he wasn’t paying attention to. Freddie talked a lot, whether Roger was actively responding or not, it made him think that maybe Freddie didn’t have much to do wherever he was. If that were the case though, he never says. 

He ran his hands lightly up and down his sides and stomach, slowly and gently, feeling all of his smooth unmarked skin. He felt the warmth of it traveling up from his fingertips, itching with the need to dig into his flesh. It would be so easy, he just had to curl his fingers a little bit, and point his nails in slightly. 

Just a little bit.

_ “Rog?”  _ He jumps at this for some reason, blinking rapidly, caught off guard despite the voice having been there the whole time.  _ “Are you alright, love?”  _

“Huh?” He asks dumbly, heart thumping quickly in his chest.

_ “You got very quiet there, are you okay?”  _

“Oh, uh yeah, I’m alright, just thinking.” 

_ “Penny for your thoughts?”  _ The response is gentle, but careful, Roger frowns. 

“Do you even have a penny?” 

_ “That is not the point and you know it, darling, don’t try and change the subject. What’s on your mind?”  _

“Nothing,” He shrugs, unconsciously still rubbing over his stomach. “Just stuff, nothing important.” 

_ “Is your stomach hurting, love? You keep rubbing it.”  _ His hands still instantly, freezing in place, fists clenching nervously. 

“No, no I um…” He scrambles to try and think of something to say, mind starting to race again.

_ “Roger?”  _

“Uhh.” 

_ “Rog, I think you should go and find one of the others.”  _ Freddie gently suggests, Roger closes his eyes, fists tightening, trying to hold on as best as he can, feeling himself slipping. 

“Why?” He asks with a shuddering breath. 

_ “I don’t think you’re alright, love. I don’t think you should be alone right now.”  _ He speaks calmly, as if Roger is a hair trigger away from a melt down, which to be fair isn’t far from the truth.  _ “I know you have me, but you know what I mean.”  _

Roger bites his lip, feeling his eyes welling up behind his lids. Freddie is right, he probably shouldn’t be alone right now. He should go and find someone, ask for help, and keep his promise to stop. Even if they don’t wanna see him right now, he’s sure they’d be willing to tie his hands up for a little while or something. He should, he really should, and he knows it. 

But he isn’t going to. 

“Freddie?” He whispers, sitting up more, barely audible. 

_ “I’m here, darling, what’s the matter?”  _

Roger hesitates a moment, opening his eyes just to close them again. He opens his mouth to speak, but his throat feels like it’s closing up with his emotional turmoil. He hates this, he hates that he needs this, that he deserves this, but he does. 

He needs it.

“Freddie.” He tries to speak, but it comes out as a miserable whimper.

_ “Roger?”  _

“Please, please forgive me for this.” He begs, feeling pathetic and ashamed. 

_ “Roger Meddows Taylor whatever you’re about to do, don’t you dare do it!”  _

But he does.

He sucks in a sharp breath upon the first dig of his nails into his stomach. It's a dull stinging, not nearly enough, but even that mild sensation makes him want to weep with relief. He’s finally getting somewhere. The storm inside of him is going to calm, everything is going to alright, he just needs a bit more. 

He digs in harder, ignoring Freddie’s frantic voice in his head. They’ll be hell to pay later, he’s sure, but for now none of the matters.

A small gasp escaping him, his brain is slowing, but just a bit. It’s kind of working.but it’s not enough, so he tries again. His nails are short and not especially sharp, failing to get deep enough to really give himself what he needs. Tears of frustration start falling, this isn’t like the razor, that was a sharp, biting pain, this is dull, too mild. 

He whines, clawing desperately at his soft flesh, feeling panic and frustration swelling inside of him. Distantly he hears some commotion happening, a voice or two, but his focus is pinpoint right now. He’s so close, so close to everything feeling alright, he’s trying so hard. 

Just a little bit more, the universe can’t stop him now, it can’t. 

“Roger!?” Voice Freddie screeches, or maybe it was someone else, he can’t honestly tell. “What the hell are you doing?!” 

“It’s not working!!” He cries as multiple hands grab him, trying to hold him still. He tries to jerk away unsuccessfully. 

“Roger stop!” 

“No!” He wails, fighting when he’s immobilized, trying to break free “No! No I need, I please, I need! It’s not working!” 

  
  


He’s pulled against a warm chest, the hands on his wrists never letting up, and he sobs into it, still weakly fighting. Arms He was so close! If he’s just had more time, he hates everything right now, and most especially himself. 

“That’s enough, Roger, stop this now.” Someone, who he thinks is Frieddie says, arms wrap tightly around him, pinning him in place. He shakes his head, not caring how pathetic he looks and sounds. He needs it. 

“Please.” He begs, but it’s useless, the arms and hands only hold tighter. “Please! Please.” 

“Shhhh.” A voice soothes in his ear, “It’s over.” 

He whimpers, and struggles again.

“Roger, it’s over.” 

He collapses into the chest in front of him, erupting into broken sobs. The hands still hold him, but he basically goes limp, no fight left in him. He’s tired and sad and overwhelmed, everything feels shitty and bleak, but there’s nothing he can do about it. 

He is a broken man, and in that moment, he just wants to be held. 


	32. Chapter 28: Like a wounded animal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello hello!
> 
> I'm sorry for the slight delay, I have been very sick this week. I was in the ER last night, which was incredibly annoying and uncomfortable, and I've been having tests and scans done and it's just been a very stressful week. I'm alright, don't worry, I'm not dying or anything. I am starting to feel better slowly. I just wanted to apologize for taking a little time on this one, but as you can imagine my mind was in other places. 
> 
> This chapter, I'm sorry to say isn't very good. It's one of those where I'm really not happy with it. I just like idk if it really makes sense, and if it works with the story, but it's the best I can do right now. I'm still a little out of it with the sickness and meds the doctor gave me. So forgive me if it's bad, but I hope you guys enjoy!
> 
> Two things I quickly want to say is everything in italics is a flashback, and that this chapter contains a completely made up story about one of Freds cats. I mean, everything in this is made up.. I don't know just don't read this expecting any kind of historical accuracy or even coherency lets be honest. 
> 
> I'm sorry this is so long, I really hope you guys enjoy. Thank you so much for being so supportive and I will try to post again soon. Love you guys <3

This wasn’t supposed to happen, none of it. 

They were supposed to keep him safe. They were supposed to protect him, to watch out for him. They were supposed to make sure this didn’t happen again.

They promised him.

It wasn’t as if they had abandoned him, really, they hadn’t. They were always there, lingering out of sight out of mind. Keeping tabs while giving the illusion that Roger was being given space.

But they were never really gone. 

  
  


xxxxxxxxx

_ “I don’t know, Deacs,” Freddie says with a frown, the three of them still in John’s room, having just finished calming him down and recounting the events that took place after he’d left the room. “It just doesn’t make sense, he was fine, and then suddenly not.”  _

_ “He just snapped?” The singer nods, saddened by the memory of Roger’s outburst. “What did he say?”  _

_ “That he’s been good and not relapsed and so we need to extend some trust his way,” He recalls briefly, not wanting to relive it in depth. “That we’re suffocating him, basically.” He stops, feeling his eyes begin to well up slightly, the voice of Roger still stinging in his head.  _

_ They were just trying to help after all.  _

_ “I’m so sorry, Fred, this is all my fault.” John says sadly, eyes also beginning to show moisture again. There had been enough tears in this house over the past few days to fill an entire swimming pool..  _

_ “What do you mean, darling?” Freddie blinks at him, confused. “How is it your fault? We were all pestering him.”  _

_ “I told him off, that’s what riled him up.” The bassist explains quietly, the guilt that had never truly gone from moments ago bubbling back up. “That anger was meant for me, not either of you. I’m the one he really wanted to snap at, I’m the one who deserved it, I’m sorry you both had to take his heat in my place.”  _

_ He apologizes sincerely to his bandmates, offering them both a weak smile of apology.  _

_ “Oh, love, don’t start with the self blaming thing again. We were all there trying to get into the room, and we’re all under stress right now. I don’t think his anger is only because of you, I really don’t.” _

_ “You’re both wrong.” Brian, who’s been mostly quiet, just listening to the others, speaks up. “Roger isn’t angry, he never was.”  _

_ This earns him two confused looks from his mates. He goes to elaborate, but the two of them begin speaking before he can explain himself.  _

_ “It sure sounds like he was angry to me..”  _

_ “Bri, darling, were you not there in the room? Did you not hear everything I heard?” _

_ “Of course I was.”  _

_ “Then how do you explain someone having an angry outburst and snapping, but not being angry?”  _

_ “You’re right Freddie, that wouldn’t make any sense,” Brian concedes, quickly continuing when he sees Freddie opening his mouth again. “But that’s the thing, what happened in there wasn’t an angry outburst, not really.”  _

_ “Then what was it?’ John asks, just as confused as Freddie.  _

_ “Deflection.”  _

_ The room falls silent for a moment, Freddie and Deacy trying to make sense of the words. It had seemed fairly clear to them that Roger was angry at them for not giving him space, classic blondie and his temper.  _

_ But Brian sounded so sure, maybe they were wrong?  _

_ “Deflection? What do you mean, Brian?”  _

_ “I mean just what I said, he’s deflecting.”  _

_ “How do you figure that?”  _

_ “Freddie?” Brian says after taking a moment to try and figure out how best to get his point across. “Do you remember a few years ago, when Romeo wouldn’t let you near him all day?”  _

_ “Back at the flat?” Freddie asks with a frown, gears in his head turning , Brian nods his affirmation.  _

_ “How well do you remember that day?” _

_ “Barely, god that feels like three lifetimes ago.” Brian smiles in understanding, agreeing with that, but nodding for Freddie to go on without lingering on the odd nostalgia. “I remember he wouldn’t let anyone hold him, not even me. He’d hiss and scamper away if anyone got near him.”  _

_ “Do you remember why?” Brian presses, and after a moment, Freddie’s eyes widen.  _

_ “The cut on his paw..” He mutters out, it finally clicking in his head. “You’re right, god, Brimi, you’re right.”  _

_ “Anyone care to explain to me what the hell you’re talking about?” John says with a confused huff, unhappy about being left out. He didn’t recall this story at all, this must have been before he’d met them before queen.  _

_ That really did feel three lifetimes ago, at least.  _

_ “Sorry, love.” Freddie offers, while Brian gets to work explaining.  _

_ “Roger is lashing out at us, trying to deflect away from his pain, trying to scare us away.”  _

_ “Like a wounded animal…” Deacy whispers as it clicks for him as well. Brain was right. _

_ Roger wasn’t angry, he was scared and hurting, and desperately trying to take the attention away from his pain any way he could.  _

_ “So, what do we do?”  _

xxxxxxx

So, they concocted a plan. 

They would give the drummer a few days to himself, or at least let him they were. They indulged in his request for space, while keeping sharp eyes on him the whole time, knowing that space isn't what he truly needed. They figured they’d give him a few days to break down his stubbornness a little bit before having a sit down talk with him again. 

They decided some ground rules needed to be set, on both sides. They needed to make sure they could keep him out of danger, and get him to slowly open up about the pain he feels, no matter how hard it would be for him to talk about. But they also don’t want him to feel suffocated, like he’s a prisoner in his own home. 

They need to compromise, as long as Roger would work with them, they could give him a little bit of leash. 

Unfortunately, by the time they got to Roger’s room, ready to ask him to come and talk, he was back at it again. There was panic and tears and struggling, but eventually they managed to subdue him. Or he at least stopped trying to fight back against them, though not seeming any happier. 

Freddie, Brian, and John all shared teary glances at each other, their hearts collectively broken. Roger sobbed against Freddie’s chest, while John held his hands tightly to stop him from carrying on. 

Roger was in a million pieces in their hands, and they didn’t know how to put him back together. 


	33. Chapter 29: No

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright so, I'm gonna make this real quick. 
> 
> It's Freddie's birthday, and also my friend said she was in need of angst, so I wanted to post another chapter. This chapter is a steaming pile of hot garbage, but here it is anyway! I'll try to make the next one better and faster. 
> 
> Blah blah it's also my birth day im old now blah blah. 
> 
> Enjoy, I'm gonna go eat a brownie and do some shots. Love yall!

Time has passed, maybe minutes, maybe hours, nobody is really sure. Roger has mostly calmed down, still just laying against Freddie. His hands are still being held, but he doesn’t try to fight it. All the contact is nice after being alone, he wouldn’t honestly mind sitting like this while. 

No conversation, just cuddles .

All too soon though, the silence is broken. 

“Roger.”

The drummer sniffles but doesn’t respond otherwise. He isn’t ready to talk, to face them. They can’t make him talk. 

“Rog.” The voice of Deacy is becoming more insistent. “You need to talk to us..” 

Roger shakes his head, burrowing into the warmth of the chest in front of him, trying to hide himself in it. 

“Roger…” A small whine escapes his throat before he can stop it, he shakes his head again. He doesn’t wanna talk, he wants to hide here in Freddie’s arms where it’s safe. Freddie’s arms tighten around him, seeming almost like a reflex, as Roger gets as close as possible. 

“I know you don’t want to mate, but we’re past the point where you get to choose.” That’s Brian, tone of voice just as soft as it usually is, but Roger found no comfort in it. “These secrets are making you sick, you need to let them out.” 

“I can’t..” Roger whimpers, voice shaky. He can’t tell them, don’t they understand? 

“You can, Rog, “ John attempts to comfort, but his tone is serious. “You’ll feel better once it’s off your chest.” 

Roger shakes his head again, fresh tears slipping down his cheeks, because no he won’t. If he tells them, they’re just going to think he’s crazy and have him locked up. In fairness, maybe he is crazy, he isn’t really sure of his own sanity anymore, but they don’t need to know that. 

They can’t know that. 

“Darling, it’s alright, just take a deep breath and try to calm down.” He can feel Freddies chest rumble as he speaks, the arms around him lightly squeezing. Roger wishes it was just the two of them together, he wishes he was free of the prying eyes of the others. 

“Talk to us Rog, you aren’t getting out of this.” Brian doesn’t let up the insistence, not giving him a moment's rest. Roger closes his eyes, the solid warmth of Freddie his only comfort right now. “It’ll be easier if you just get it over with.” 

“No..” Roger moans out miserably, his voice muffled by Freddie’s chest. 

“Sweetheart..” Freddie begins speaking in a gentle encouraging tone, but Roger quickly shuts him down. 

“No, no I can’t, I can’t.” He mumbles, shaking his head again, his brain isn’t working properly right now, he can’t seem to find the words, but he tries to make them understand. 

He can’t tell them, he can’t talk to them, he  _ can't _

“Oh my love..” A small kiss is pressed to his head, and he shudders at the contact, the love and affection registering inside but dulled by the mess of other racing thoughts. 

“You can, and you will,” Brian stays firm, John making a small hum of affirmation, “It’s happening, whether you like it or not, it’s coming out. I know this is hard on you Roger, I understand, but we can’t put this off anymore. I am not letting this fester anymore, now talk.”

“Brian..” Freddies soft voice rings out, quiet and sounding at a loss. “Are you sure that's… I mean, he’s so vulnerable right now..shouldn’t we-.” 

“Freddie.” Brian cuts him off, fixing him with a stern, sharp tone. “How many times are we going to go through this? Hmm? One of these days Roger could go too far and do some permanent damage to himself. He could get a nasty infection, he could damage his nerves or muscles, he could even hit an artery. Then where would we be? It is not a risk we can be willing to take.” 

Roger cries softly as the words come out, feeling more and more dreadful the longer Brian talks. It’s all true, but he doesn't want to think about that stuff. He knows it’s dangerous and stupid and he’s awful for it, but he just needs it sometimes. Why can’t they see that? Why can’t he just tell them that? Why does everything have to be so fucking hard. 

“You’re right, of course you’re right.” Freddie sounds conflicted and completely miserable “I just..I can’t stand seeing him like this..” 

“I get it, mate, I do, but we need to be on the same page here.” 

“Freddie I know this isn’t easy, but Brian's right, we all need to do what’s best for Roger right now,” Deacy chimes in again, voice kind but serious. “If you can’t get with the program maybe you should leave and let us handle Roger.” 

Rogers eyes snap open, his breathing hitching in his chest, panic rising. One signal getting through all the jumbled thoughts and emotions, hitting him like a heat seeking missile. Freddie is leaving, they are sending him away, he’s going. 

“No!!” He cries out, his arms wrapping tightly around the singer, clinging with all of his weak strength. “No no no no!!” 

“Roger?!” Someone calls with concern, Roger surges up, tackling Freddie to the bed, holding tightly. The singer yelps out when suddenly he has a very emotional Roger holding onto him with all his might. 

“Roger, what?” He’s at a loss for words. He tries to shuffle back to look the drummer in the eyes, but Roger clings, crying harder. 

“No!! No Freddie, don't leave! Don’t leave me please!” He wails out, he’s not even sure of what he’s saying anymore, it’s all coming out in a giant rush. “Please! Please don’t leave me!!” 

“Roger?” 

“No!” 

“Roger!” 

“NO!” 

Finally he stops trying to move away and wraps his arms back around the hysterical blonde, pulling him flush against his chest. Roger sobs, trying to press closer, Freddie can’t leave him, he can’t!!.

“Shh I’m here, darling, I’m here.” Freddie whispers to him, he whimpers and doesn’t let up. Freddie shares a tearful glance with the others, who seem to be at as much of a loss as he is. 

“Don’t leave.” Roger beg, desperate and miserable. “Please, don’t leave me, can’t lose you.” 

“I’m right here, my love.” Freddie tries to reassure, giving him another small kiss, hoping the words provide some comfort to the trembling drummer. 

“I’m not leaving you, darling, not ever, I promise.”


	34. Chapter 30: Drowning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello hello!!
> 
> I’m so sorry about the long wait for the chapter, but here it is!!!
> 
> I wasn’t planning on even attempting to come back this soon. I have been wanting to write for days if not weeks now, but my mental health hasn’t been good so I’ve been too scared to even try. But today, I actually did, and I got a chapter out of it.
> 
> It wasn’t done super quickly and I’m not 100% happy with it but I am so relieved to be writing again. I have had little side stories and on shots I’ve been working on and I’ve been so frustrated with all of them. Nothing has been coming out right in my head. But I’m actually okay with this chapter. I don’t hate it for once! It’s not perfect but I don’t hate it!
> 
> Thank you all for being patient with me. I am still dealing with a lot and I’m not sure exactly how often I’ll be updating but I will try to get chapters to you guys as quick as I can.
> 
> Love you all, and hope you enjoy. Let me know what you think about the return. ❤️❤️

Time passes, and things go quiet, or maybe he’s just shutting out the noise. He’s honestly not sure. 

Rogers' eyes slipped shut as he lay in Freddie’s arms. His heart was pounding, his cheeks still damp, but he just lay still. Caged in the solid warmth of his best friend, he didn’t have to think about what just happened, what was about to happen, any of it. He could pretend, even just for a moment that everything was alright.

“Roger.” Freddie says softly, breaking the silence far too quickly, and Roger doesn’t acknowledge him. 

They should talk, they need to talk, he knows, but that is the last thing he wants to do right now. 

“Rog, dear.” Fred tried again, giving the drummer a little shake, Roger once again ignored him, continuing to lay on top of him like a useless lump. He can hear Freddie sigh and shake him again, but it’s more a sound of amusement than exasperation. 

“I know you’re awake, darling.” 

“‘M not.” He mumbles into the warm chest, warning him a soft chuckle. 

“Cmon, up you get.” Roger lets out a small, pathetic whine as he’s gently pushed up into a sitting position. “Brian and Deacy have given us some privacy so we can talk.” 

“I don’t wanna talk.” He complains, not moving away from the singer, a feeling of dread settling into the pit of his stomach. 

“Yes, love, we’ve established that.” Freddie says, voice kind. He brings up a hand to gently push a few stray hairs off of Rogers face. Warm brown eyes searching for anguished blue ones. “Emotions aren’t easy to talk about, especially ones that are causing you pain, believe me I know. It feels easier and safer to keep it all inside. But these secrets are making you sick, darling. This isn’t you, Roger, none of it.” 

Rogers' eyes begin welling up again, because it’s true, and he knows it. This isn’t him. He isn’t someone who self harms, or attempts suicide, or gets so overwhelmed by the idea of taking about his problems he breaks down into sobs. This isn’t him at all, but he can’t seem to help it. 

“I know, I know.” He says, voice sounding shaky and broken to his own ears. “I’m sorry Freddie, god I’m so… I never meant for any of this. I never wanted to drag any of you down with me.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for, sweetheart, you haven’t dragged any of us anywhere, this is precisely what friends are for.” He gives a small squeeze on Rogers shoulder, but the blond still doesn’t look at him. “I just want to help you, love.” 

“You can’t.” Roger mutters on reflex, because truly, what can Freddie do? What can any of them do to make any of it okay. They’d think he was crazy. 

Which, to be fair, maybe he is. 

“Roger..” 

“No, Freddie, I’m serious.” Roger cuts him off before he can continue, feeling the panic starting to creep back up. 

“There has to be something I can do.” 

“There’s nothing. There’s nothing you, any of you, can do. You can’t help me, it’s pointless.” His breathing is slightly labored when he speaks, his chest feeling slightly tight. 

He goes to move away, intent on just spending the day alone again, even though the idea makes his insides twist and knot painfully, it would be easier than spending it with Freddie, or any of them really. He wouldn’t have to worry about them prying into his mind. 

He reluctantly pulls himself away from Freddie, even though the idea of being away from the singer makes him want to cry all over again. He barely manages to scoot a few inches away before Freddie has grabbed him and pulled him back.

“Oh no you don’t, blondie.” Roger gives off a tiny surprised yelp, which Freddie doesn’t acknowledge. “You’re not going anywhere, get back here.” 

He lets out a small whine of protest, but he doesn’t fight beyond that as he’s literally pulled onto the singer's lap and against Freddie’s chest. He’s too mentally exhausted and overwhelmed to resist. 

“Roger Taylor, you are the most stubborn, hard headed, arsehole I have ever known, and considering who our friends are, that should tell you something.” He says, keeping his arms tight around the drummer. “It’s almost impressive honestly.” 

Roger would laugh, or make some biting remark back, if he wasn’t feeling so awful about this entire situation. 

“You are right about one thing, though, dear, I can’t help you.” He concedes, Roger blinks, he wasn’t expecting that. Freddie is at least as stubborn as him, he didn’t think he would just give up like that. He isn’t sure how to feel about it, but he doesn’t have much time to contemplate it, because Freddie speaks again. “But only because  _ you won’t let me.”  _

“Wha-?” 

“Darling, you’re drowning, and I’m standing here with my hand out, ready to grab you. There is help right in front you, but you’re too busy worrying about the water to see it.” 

Roger sniffles, it is kind of a fair point, but it’s not that simple, really. 

“You’d just end up drowning with me,” he mumbles, keeping his head down. 

“I’m a strong swimmer.” 

“It’s better this way, I can deal on my own.”

“But you don’t have to.” Freddie deliberately doesn’t point out that no, he definitely cannot deal on his own, that is abundantly clear.

“You’re carrying this burden around with you and it’s suffocating you, all I’m asking is that you let me ease the load for you.” 

They fell into silence for a moment while Roger let the words sink in. It’s terrifying to even think about. Freddie made a lot of sense and he sounded so certain, maybe he was right?

Was he going to do this? Was he really prepared to open up about all of it? Could he even get through a few words without breaking down? Is it somehow possible that everything would be okay? 

A warm hand on his cheek tilts his head up to look into the singer's eyes directly. His heart skips a beat, butterflies fluttering in his stomach, but he’s somehow less afraid. Seeing the love and warmth in those beautiful orbs making some of the tension inside of him release. 

“I have a favor to ask you, love. Can you do something for me?” 

“What do you need, Fred?” Roger whispers, biting his lip, mouth going dry, but doesn’t look away, Freddie smiles continuing on gently. 

“My darling best friend, whom I love so dearly, is in agony, suffering more and more each day, and I can bear it no longer. I simply must ease his pain, even if just a little bit. But, despite my best efforts, I can’t do it alone. Roger, my dear, will you help me help my love? Please?” 

Roger feels a single tear slip out of his eye, lip wobbling slightly, because apparently this is now his reaction to anything emotional going on. 

God what’s happened to him? 

It’s still terrifying to even think about, and almost definitely a bad idea, but looking into Freddie’s eyes like this, he somehow feels safe. Like maybe it would be alright after all. 

“Alright Fred,” he feels himself saying, his voice barely audible. “I’ll try.” 


	35. Chapter 31: Stay like this

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was done quicker than I thought. 
> 
> I struggled a bit with this chapter, but not too terribly. I didn’t have much motivation to work on this, but when I actually worked out how I wanted it to go, it came out pretty easy. 
> 
> This is a filler chapter, I’m sorry. Roger and Fred ARE going to talk. I swear, it will happen. That was supposed to be this chapter, but it turned into more buildup. The next chapter will probably be the talk. Don’t hold me to that though. 
> 
> Having said that, that is obviously going to be a dialog heavy chapter. We all know by now I am insecure/unsure about writing dialog. So that might take me a while to get done. So if I don’t see you guys for like another few weeks, I apologize in advance. If that does happen, please feel free to yell at me in the comments until I get it done. 
> 
> I’m on the fence if I like this chapter or not... let me know what you guys think! 
> 
> I love you guys, and I’ll try to post soon!!

Freddie could honest to god sing for joy when Roger agreed to accept the help. They were going to talk, and properly talk this time. This doesn’t immediately fix anything of course, but it’s a step in the right direction. 

Progress.

He pulls a silent and tearful Roger against himself, snuggling the drummer happily to his chest. Roger sniffles, but doesn’t protest, letting himself be held. They just sit cuddled up together for a few moments, and it’s honestly so, incredibly nice. 

Rogers' face is eventually pressed up into Freddie’s neck under his chin, and Freddie gives him a gentle squeeze, content to let him hide there. For now anyway. 

“I’m proud of you.” He tells Roger, who smiles just the tiniest bit at the praise. 

“I haven’t even done anything yet.” He mumbles into the warm skin.

“You’re trying darling, and that’s something, that’s everything.” He says, leaning to place a kiss on the blonde locks. Feeling Roger shudder against him at the contact only makes him want to hold tighter.

In Spite of the decidedly unfortunate circumstances, Freddie finds there’s nowhere else on earth he would rather be than here cuddled up with his best friend. He gives another small squeeze, feeling a surge of affection for the blonde in his arms. 

Cuddling Roger is quickly rising to the top of the list of Freddie’s favorite activities. 

Of course, this isn’t something that can be fixed with some head kisses and a quick snuggle session, as nice as that would be. They do actually need to talk here, eventually. So he pushes back a bit, depositing Roger on the bed, earning him a small noise of protest. 

“Roger, c’mon love, we have to talk, remember?” 

“But you’re so comfy, and warm.” The drummer whines, blush creeping onto his cheeks, unhappy about the effort to break up the cuddles. “I like this.” 

Freddie feels himself smiling, because he likes this too, they are definitely going to start doing this regularly. 

“As flattering as that is, darling, we really do need to talk now.” He had slight reservations about pushing the drummer too much, but he needed to get him to open up. And now that Roger had agreed, he wasn’t about to give up on that. 

“I don’t want to.” 

“Rog-“ Freddie starts to protest but is quickly interrupted by the blonde.

“I know I know, I just agreed to talk, I know,” Roger looks down at the crumpled sheets, voice small and miserable. “I still just...don’t want to.” 

Freddie’s mouth turns into a sympathetic smile, he understands, not fully of course, but he knows this isn’t easy on Roger. 

“But you’re never actually going to want to, are you love?” He asks gently, Roger sniffles, feeling his eyes begin to water again. 

“No, I guess no.” He mumbles, not adding any more to the conversation. 

Freddie gives Roger a small squeeze on the shoulder, trying to offer some comfort, smile widening a bit when the drummer pushes into the touch for a moment before seemingly becoming self conscious and pulling back again. 

Oh no, that won’t do. 

He grabs Roger and pulls, once again hefting the smaller man towards himself so he can hold him in his arms. Roger makes another confused squeak as he’s once again made to sit in his friends lap like a child. 

“There we are.” Freddie says happily, while Roger pushes back slightly, as much as the singer allows.

“Freddie, what?” 

“That’s better, isn’t it, dear?” 

“Well, I don’t see any reason why I can’t hold you at the same time.” Freddie reasons, holding back the sudden urge to place a kiss on Rogers' adorably confused face. He doesn’t know where that desire came from, but he decided to file it away in the back of his mind to deal with later. He continues speaking, slowly starting to push Roger further away “Unless you’d rather have some personal space, love, in which case-.”

“No!”

He doesn’t get to finish his sentence before the solid weight of Roger crashes back into him, knocking the air out of him temporarily. Freddie grunts at the sudden force as he feels arms wrapping around him to cling on tighter. 

“No.” Roger mumbles as his face is once again pressed into Freddie’s neck.

“Christ, darling.” Freddie says, voice quiet but affectionate, wrapping his arms around the drummer, gentle but secure. “Alright.” 

“Sorry.” Roger mumbles, a little shaky, blushing at his own actions so deeply Fred and feel the heat of it. 

“It’s perfectly alright, sweetheart,”he assures, kissing the top of Rogers' head for emphasis. “I didn’t mean to upset you, love. We can stay just like this as long as you like.” 

Roger let’s out a little contented hum at the idea, not speaking. He closes his eyes, taking a deep, relaxing breathing, just drinking in the solid warmth encasing him. Being held by Freddie made him feel safe, and calm. He could just rest here listening to the singer's steady heart beat.

Here in this moment, everything was alright. 

“Roger,” but of course, all good things must come to an end. “Darling?” 

“Hmm?” 

“We do still have to talk, dear.” Freddie sounds almost apologetic, and Roger barely holds back a groan, he was halfway hoping the singer would forget about that. “C’mon, love.” 

Roger has to work to keep himself from getting panicked and emotional again when he feels Freddie moving him again. 

“You said-.” 

“We can stay like this, darling, but I do want to actually be able to see you, too.” Freddie says, and Roger registers that he’s being pulled up not pushed away, so that quells some of the anxiety. 

Not all, but some. 

He wiggles a bit, helping Freddie situate him into a comfortable position. The end up with Roger still in the singer's lap, but straighter and less curled up, Freddie’s arms still around him, though unable to properly wrap around him fully anymore. It’s not as nice this way, but it will have to do. 

“Hello my love.” Freddie smiles when they are face to face again, and Roger can’t help but huff out a laugh at that. 

“Hi.” 

“Whenever you’re ready, dear.” Freddie says with an encouraging shoulder squeeze. 

“I still don’t want to.” He mumbles, and Freddie nods. 

“I know, darling.” 

“I hate this, I hate everything about this.” 

“I know, darling.” 

Roger huffs out a sigh, biting his lip, trying to find some possible way to explain himself, the situation, any of it. 

“Honestly, I’m not sure where to even begin.” 

  
  
  



	36. Chapter 32: Progress

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ummm hi. 
> 
> So. It's been a hot minute. I apologize. 
> 
> To make a long story short my brain fucking sucks. Theres a lot of things I could say here but like... eh.. Theres a lot going on in my personal life that's stressing me out at the moment, and I'm just struggling with my mental health. Motivation and focus are pretty much nonexistent, so that's fun.
> 
> I keep getting distracted even trying to write this damn note. I really need to get off my computer right now. 
> 
> I don't think this chapter is very good, but what's new. I tried to make it a tiny bit longer than i usually would. You probably wont notice a difference, but I thought that'd be nice since I made you all wait so long. I will try to post again before the end of the year, but we'll see if my brain wants to cooperate with that.
> 
> Thank you for all the support. You're all lovely and amazing and I'm sorry it takes me so long to update and respond to comments and shit. I love you guys, even if I'm bad at showing it. 
> 
> <3 <3 <3

“Honestly, I’m not even sure where to begin.” Roger admitted, his eyes lowered down onto the sheets below, as if he’d somehow find an answer there. Freddie smiles slightly, feeling sympathetic for the blonde, knowing this wasn’t easy on him. 

“What can I do to make this easier on you, dear?” He asks genuinely, the faintest smile ghosts Rogers lips for a moment. 

“I’m not sure if anything would make this easier, Fred. It’s all a jumbled mess in here,” he says, lightly tapping a finger against his temple. “It doesn’t even make any sense to me, so how am I supposed to explain it to you?” 

“There must be something..” Freddie pauses for a moment to think about that, and they fall into a small silence. In fairness, Roger did have a point. That would make it harder to articulate the thoughts in his probably already frantic head, there was no arguing that. Freddie knew this wouldn’t be easy on the drummer, but that certainly didn’t deter him. If anything, he was even more determined to find a way to help than ever. 

“Why don’t we try the questions again, love?’ He suggests, seeing Roger tilt his head in contemplation, a gesture that is much more cute than it has any right to be, but Fred manages to keep focused on his words. “That seemed to help you last time, maybe it would be easier to get the thoughts out that way.” 

“Yeah… that… that sounds...good actually.” Roger says with a small nod after thinking it over a moment. It wouldn’t make the subject matter any less intense, but it would certainly make the transition from brain to mouth smoother. And in a situation like this, any small bit of help was more than welcome. 

“Alright, my dear, but remember, complete honesty, yes?” Freddie asks, voice serious, but gentle. 

“Right, okay.” Roger nods again, establishing eye contact with the singer once again for a brief moment to show his sincerity. 

“Alright, lets see..” He pauses to think once again, deciding where the best angle to go about this is. There are so many things to bring up, so many things that desperately need to be talked out, but he tries to find one that might be easier to start with. “Did you harm yourself at all during the last few days, darling? Aside from when we caught you, I mean.”

“No.” Roger says quickly with a shake of his head, Freddie frowns. 

“Are you being honest, Rog? You know we’re going to find out, eventually love.” He says seriously, not exactly proud of himself for talking to his friend like a suspicious parent to a naughty child, but figuring it to be the best way to get the point across. This would only work if Roger was well and truly honest. 

“No I swear, honest to god!” Rogers' voice comes out a bit hectic and squeaky, and he pauses, closing his eyes and taking a moment to collect himself. “Sorry, I’m still a complete mess over this whole thing, my stomach is doing damn summersaults.” 

“It’s alright love, just take a deep breath and try and relax, I know it’s hard but we’re gonna get through this.” Freddie promises, giving him a squeeze,, wishing there was something else he could do to alleviate the blondes anxiety A few deep breaths later, Roger reopens his eyes to look Freddie in the eyes again before continuing. 

“No,” He says calmly but with a definite underlying tension. “I did not, I promise.” Freddie studies his eyes for a moment, and seems to feel the sincerity that Roger was desperately trying to convey. 

“Alright, love,” Freddie nods with a small smile, there's some good news at least. “I’m proud of you, dear, I’m sure that wasn’t easy.” 

Roger feels his heart flutter lightly at the praise, because it was true, this wasn’t easy at all. Freddie acknowledging his pain and trepidation didn’t make it go away, but it was still nice.

“Thank you, Fred.” He says with a slight blush as the two share another small hug, which is really just roger snuggling in closer to the singer. 

“Right then,” Freddie continues after letting Roger have the moment of comfort. “What happened earlier, darling? What got you so worked up?” 

Roger feels his blush deepen, the memory causing an unwelcome wave of embarrassment to wash over him. It was a ridiculous reaction, wasn’t it? Quite silly really… but he couldn’t seem to help it. The idea of Freddie going was absolutely terrifying, it stirred something up inside of him, and he almost felt crazed. 

“You were leaving.” He mumbles, keeping his eyes down, really not caring to elaborate beyond that. 

“But I wasn’t,” Freddie says with a frown, “I wasn’t really going to leave, dear.”

“I thought you were.” Roger still doesn’t look up, shame and anxiety battling it out in his mind. This was so embarrassing to talk about, he’s a grown ass man who had a breakdown at the idea of his friend leaving the room.

“Roger,” Freddie tilts the drummers head up to look him in the eyes, frowning with concern. Roger didn’t notice the fresh tears welling up until they blurred the warm, caring face before him. “I’m not going anywhere, you do know that right? I’m leaving you, darling, never.” 

Roger closed his eyes for a moment breathing in a shaky sigh. He wanted to believe those words, so badly. Every cell and atom in his body wanted so desperately to take in every syllable that left the singer's mouth, and hold onto them like a lifeline. Trusting the words, and letting Freddie guide him back to safety and sanity like a life preserver. 

But he just couldn't. Because he knew the truth. 

“You already did.” The words leave his mouth before he can stop them, his quivering vocal chords producing a sound somewhere between whisper and an accusation. Freddie’s frown deepens, his brows furrowing together. 

“The past few days? We weren’t really gone, darling, none of us were, I swear,” He attempts to explain, feeling guilty, they hadn’t meant any harm. Though it occurs to him and they never actually explained this to Roger, they just distanced, no wonder he’d felt so alone.. “We just thought that-”

He cuts off when Roger shakes his head, feeling more confused than ever. If that wasn’t what Roger was talking about, then what? He honestly couldn’t remember having done anything recently, or ever for that matter that would pull this kind of response from the drummer. 

“Then what do you mean, love?” He asks, trying to maintain his gentle tone, though he feels Roger begin to tremble in his arms. 

“Freddie..” He whispers, sounding so broken and miserable, everything in his brain driving him mad. He shudders tears slipping down his cheeks, his chest feeling tight. 

“Roger, talk to me.” Freddie begs, feeling a little bit mad, himself. He can see the anguish in his friends eyes, the turmoil, the internal war. This has to stop, it can’t go on any longer, it simply cannot. “Whatever it is, please,  _ please _ just tell me.” 

“Fred.. you..” He barely sounds able to speak, cutting off once again, taking some deep breaths that sound much more like gasps. He doesn't say anything for a moment, gears visibly turning in his head. The silence hangs in the air, and for a moment, Freddie wonders if he’s going to have to push again, he doesn’t want to, but he can’t back down now. They are so damn close to a breakthrough he can feel it!

And then, suddenly, Roger closes his eyes, and begins to wail, but ,miraculously, he isn’t just crying, he’s actually speaking. 

“Freddie!!” He sobs, as it finally  _ finally _ starts pouring out. “Freddie, you died!!”


	37. Chapter 33: You and Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What the hell is this?? Another chapter in less than a month?? Whaaaaaat???
> 
> Ummmm yeah lmao. 
> 
> I got very drunk last night and was like “I should try to get the next chapter started” so I did, and I ended up almost finishing it. Oops? So the majority of this was actually written while I was wasted. All I had to do was polish it off a bit and finish the ending. Go drunk me I guess? 
> 
> I kind of hate this chapter but not too much? Its pretty angsty, but I did throw in some softness too. And I think you guys are going to like the ending. Fingers crossed anyway. 
> 
> This chapter is dialog heavy, which is already a weak spot for me, but this is probably the hardest dialog I’ve written this whole story. I rewrote certain dialog sections(I’m sure you’ll be able to guess which ones I mean when you read it) like three times trying to get it right. It’s not perfect, but I think I’m okay with it. 
> 
> Thank you all for being lovely. I’m not sure when the next chapter will be out, it will probably be even more dialog heavy than this one (lol kill me) but I’ll try to get it done before the end of the year. Sorry this is so long, I’m gonna shut up and let you read now, let me know what you think!

Freddie opens his mouth, but promptly shuts it again. It’s not often he’s stunned into total silence, caught so off guard that his mind blanks on finding something to say, but this was one of those times. He knows he ought to respond, but nothing comes to mind. 

Roger on the other hand, doesn’t seem to be able to stop talking. Now that he’s let that tiny bit slip through the cracks, it’s like the floodgates have swung open, words are pouring out of his mouth quicker than he can even process what they are. 

“It all happened so fast...You were fine and then suddenly you were sick, and you kept getting worse. god Freddie… it was… you were so sick it was the hardest thing to watch, you just withered away before my eyes! And then one day you were gone, just like that, you just left me all alone!” He sobs out, only pausing every few words to take shallow, gasping breaths. 

“I couldn’t live without you, Fred I need you!!” He cries out, trying to reattach himself to the singer, though not being very coordinated in his state. This last sentence seems to snap Freddie out of his daze. 

“Roger, what do you mean you couldn’t live without me? Did you do something to yourself?” 

Roger closes his eyes, tears streaming down his cheeks, and nods, not even stopping to consider if there are certain things he shouldn’t be saying. His brain is too overwhelmed to think about it, he’s definitely starting to panic. 

“It doesn’t matter though.”

“What on earth are you saying, Rog, of course it matters!” Roger shakes his head, bottom lip trembling as he takes in more rapid breaths. 

“No, you don’t understand, Freddie. It doesn’t matter because I didn’t die, I woke up here! In this house with you and Brian and John like nothing ever happened!!” His voice is starting to climb in octaves as his distress grows more and more. “It’s all so strange and different and overwhelming. I don’t even know what’s real most of the time! It’s not possible, none of it, but it’s happening right before my eyes! And I just…

I can’t… I can’t…” 

He cuts off again when he’s suddenly pulled against the singer's chest. He fits snugly against the warmth of his best friend, his face finding its way into the crook of Freddie’s neck. He’s openly sobbing and gasping, thoroughly wetting both of their shirts, though if Freddie minds, he doesn’t say so. 

“Roger… shhh….shhh” He says in a low, even voice, gently running his hands along the drummers back, trying to calm him down. “That’s enough, sweetheart, hush now, just relax, breathe for me.” 

Roger whimpers, too anxious to comply, still sucking in breaths far too rapidly for any of them to really stick. Freddie isn’t deterred, however, and pushes him back, much to his dismay to look him in the eyes. 

“Slowly, in and out, just like this darling, try and copy me.” He takes a few deep, full breaths to demonstrate. Rogers brows knit together, his eyes wide, almost crazed. He tries to copy Fred’s breathing, but fails, whining in distress, on the edge of hyperventilating. 

“C’mon, blondie, try again, you can do it.” 

“Can’t!” He cries out, miserable and desperate. 

He can’t calm down, he can’t think straight, he can’t catch his breath. Everything is too much, too overwhelming. He needs pain. Pain is the only thing that can break him out of this. It’s the only clarity he has, the only lifeline. 

“You can Rog, you can do this, I know you can! Darling, look at me.” 

But there’s Freddie, somehow reaching him, cutting through the chaos. Roger, with some effort, trails his eyes over to lock them with the singer, and suddenly he feels anchored. Freddie is holding him here and now to this moment. 

“Focus on me, love, only on me. Forgot everything else.” Freddie speaks in a tone so soft, it’s almost a whisper, but Roger can pick out every word perfectly. “I’m safe, I’m alive, I’m right here with you darling. Nothing else in the world matters right now, but you and me, here together.” 

Roger holds onto those words, repeating them over and over in his head until they almost lose all meaning. He shudders, not taking his eyes off the singer, afraid the panic would begin to rise again if he did, following numbly along with what Freddie was doing without even realizing it. 

And slowly but surely, his breathing began to even out, and he felt less panicked. He wasn’t just suddenly fine, still openly crying and upset, still overwhelmed by all the mess in his brain, but he doesn’t feel like hyperventilating anymore. 

It’s something at least. 

Freddie notices the change, and a small, but relieved smile sets onto his face. He brings a hand up to caress the drummer's cheek, wiping away some of the still flowing tears. 

Roger wiggles a bit, trying to get closer to Freddie, to hide away in his safety again. Freddie indulgences him with an even bigger smile, and Roger lets out a shaky sigh, sinking into the warm embrace. 

“Everything is alright darling, everything is fine.” Freddie whispers in his ear, gently carding his fingers through Rogers' hair. “We’re here, we’re both alive and safe, and everything is going to be perfectly fine.” 

Rogers' eyes slip closed, focusing all of his attention on Freddie’s words. His whispers of assurance and affirmation, using them to drown out his sniffles and still slightly pounding heart. It helped him calm down a little bit more. He was still confused and anxious and doubting his own sanity, but being here with Freddie made it all just a bit more bearable. 

“Sorry..” he mumbles in a small quivering voice, hating how vulnerable and scared he sounds, but unable to mask it at all. “Sorry, I’m okay.” 

“No, darling, you most certainly aren’t okay..” Freddie squeezes him gently, pressing a soft kiss to his hair. He seems to be doing that more and more, but it never fails to make Rogers' heart skip a beat. “But you will be, I promise, one day you will be.” 

Roger hums at this, not an agreement or disagreement, but an acknowledgment. He doesn’t want to think about the future, the implications of what’s taken place, and of what Freddie just said. Everything is about to change, and he knows it, but that’ll come later. 

For now, he just wants to enjoy this moment of them together as much as he can. 

“Freddie?” 

“Hmm?” 

“Will you sing to me?” He asks, voice still slightly shaky, but hopeful and questioning. He can’t see the smile on Freddie’s face, but it’s apparent in his voice when he speaks. 

“Of course, love.” He pauses for a moment to think, absentmindedly tracing symbols on Rogers back with his fingertips, before a song that feels absolutely perfect finally pops into his head, and he softly begins. 

Rogers heart flutters when he hears the first few notes, snuggling further in, feeling Freddie’s chest vibrating soothingly with every word. 

_ “Oooh you make me live… whatever this world can give to me..its you you’re all I see...oooh you make me live now honey, oooh you make me live.. oh you’re the best friend, that I’ve ever had.”  _


	38. Chapter 34: Blessed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello hello. 
> 
> I was not expecting to get this done so quickly. At all. I was actually struggling a lot with this chapter. I wanted this to be much more serious, but it ended up being pretty much pure fluff. This is filler, I'm sorry, I had plot in mind but my brain said 'no. no plot. only fluff.' 
> 
> So enjoy this fluff chapter as a Christmas present I guess? We will return to the plot next chapter, I mean probably, who knows. 
> 
> I'm not really happy with this chapter. It's not written very well in my opinion, definitely one of the worse ones I've posted in a while. I had a totally different ending in mind, but this is what ended up happening. maybe you guys will enjoy it? I hope so! 
> 
> Merry Christmas if you celebrate it! If you don't, I hope you had a nice day anyway!

Freddie has made it through two more songs before he actually stops, glancing down at the drummer, who's gone mostly still in the past few minutes. He seems relaxed, his breathing has evened out, and the tears seem to have stopped. He can’t see Roger's face, but he’s sure his eyes are closed as he enjoyed the little serenade.

In fact, Freddie isn’t entirely sure that Roger hasn’t just fallen asleep slumped up against him, which is honestly way more endearing then it has any right to be. Still, now wasn’t the time to ponder that, they definitely had more talking to do, so he gave the blonde lump a gentle shake. 

“Rog, darling,” He spoke softly, earning him a noncommittal sort of hum, muffled out into his own neck. “Have you fallen asleep, dear?” 

“No.” Comes the resigned answer mumbled out after a moment of silence, and Freddie can’t help but smile. It takes him back to the days in the flat, having to wake a sleeping Roger after a late night for his shift at the stall, or to make sure he didn’t miss his university lessons.

Dealing with Roger before he’s had his coffee and a nice energizing showing is not a fun activity for anyone involved. 

“Come, love,” He says, starting to reposition the blonde. “Sit up a bit more, we have some more talking to do.”

Roger doesn’t protest, allowing himself to be moved to where Freddie wanted him. He distantly thought about bolting up and running away. Dashing off and locking himself away, maybe even sneaking out of a window or something. Anything he could do to prevent the conversation he was about to have with Freddie.

But he didn’t. 

Freddie deserved an explanation, a proper explanation, not the jumbled mess Roger had just tossed his way in the midst of blind panic. He’d said a lot, much more than he meant to, but none of it in a way that made sense, and he was sure Freddie was feeling confused and overwhelmed by all the information he had just received. It wouldn’t be right to dump all that on him and then just leave him to ponder it alone. 

And on a more selfish note, Roger is tired. 

He tried, good lord did he try. He tried so hard to keep this to himself, to keep the truth hidden under lock and key, and deal with the burden of knowing to himself. The others didn’t need to know, they didn’t deserve the pain of knowing the truth. Especially not Freddie, who would want the knowledge they were supposed to be dead? How would one even cope with that? 

Roger fought so hard to be okay, not only for himself, but for the others. This was his pain, his burden to carry, they didn’t deserve to suffer as he had. But he was so tired, tired of fighting with himself, tired of the pain and confusion and the constant pressure on himself. His panic attack moments ago had basically taken the rest of the fight out of him. He was a wounded soldier laying in his cracked armor in the middle of the battle field. 

He didn’t want to fight anymore, he just wanted to feel okay again.

“Darling, can you look at me?” Roger does, glancing over at Freddie slowly, not ready for this at all, but kind of wanting to get it over with. Keeping up with all this shit in his head has been exhausting and painful. “Are you alright Roger?” Freddie asks, frowning at Rogers suddenly subdued nature, a stark contrast to his hysterics from earlier. The singer didn’t quite know what to make of it. 

“Is that really a question that needs to be asked right now, Fred?” Roger half asks half scoffs in sheer disbelief at the question. Of course he’s not ‘alright’. Nothing, not one single thing about this situation is ‘alright’. The fact that Freddie would even ask is so ridiculous it's borderline humorous. Freddie’s frown deepens. 

“Yes,” He says, completely serious, not seeing the bizarre amusement in it that Roger had. “We have so much to talk about, love. What you just told me...there is so much to unpack there. I have many questions, as I’m sure you can imagine, and I intend to ask them, dear, we are nowhere near done here. But if you think for a second I’m going to sacrifice your well being for that, you would be mistaken.” 

Roger listens in silence to the absolute conviction in Freddie’s voice. His heart doing a funny little flutter at the words. It’s not secret to anyone who knows Freddie that he is a bit of a mother hen type person. Always willing to be shoulder to cry on, but only to those he deemed worthy. He was sometimes blunt, rude even, but fiercely loyal and protective of his loved ones. It’s not often Freddie’s protective side comes out this full force like this, at least not directed at anyone who isn’t a cat. 

Being on the receiving end of it is an unexpected, but honestly pleasant experience. It makes Rogers' insides feel warm and tingly, and he wouldn’t mind feeling this way a lot more. 

“So, yes, it does need to be asked. How are you doing? I know this is very hard on you, but are you alright to continue? Do you need to take a break from this unpleasantness or can we keep going?”

“No, no I’m alright.” Roger says, trying not to show his admiration and awe on his face. Now is not the time to contemplate his recent less than platonic feelings about his best friend, he could deal with those thoughts later.. They both had enough on their plates already. “I mean, I’m not really alright, but we can continue.” 

“Are you sure, darling? We’ve already made so much progress, and I am so proud of you, but I don’t want to send you into a panic again. Don’t push yourself past your breaking point here, love please.” 

Roger isn’t even sure what his breaking point is anymore, sure he’s reached it a few times today alone. He can’t really focus on that though, as his mind is racing again, but with nice thoughts this time. Looking back at Freddie, almost in disbelief of the man in front of him. They were so close to actually, properly talking, it had to be driving Freddie mad to be so close but so far, yet he was willing to hold off on that for the sake of Rogers comfort. 

Freddie really was a rare man, a once in a lifetime kind of friend. Roger was truly blessed to know him as closely as he did, wasn’t he?

“Roger?” Roger blinks as he’s shaken slightly. 

“Huh?” He asks, staring dumbly at the concerned face of Freddie before him. 

“You spaced out for a moment, Rog, are you alright love? Are you back with me?” 

Oh, he must have gotten lost in thought, oops. 

He knows he should give some explanation or reassurance, but somehow that’s not what comes out of his mouth. 

“I love you Freddie.” Roger gets out, only semi aware of what he’s even saying, but trying to convey his 

sincerity with every word. “You just… you’re just so good, so so good, Freddie. I fucking love you.”


	39. Thank you (rambling for way too long about 2020)

Hey guys

this is probably gonna get deleted later idk.   
  


I wanted to make this long ass post talking about how “yeah 2020 was shit but you guys made it slightly more tolerable” but literally as I’m sitting here typing this out for the 4th time idk what’s gonna happen I’m not in a good head space. So I’m just gonna talk. If you’re just here for the story and don’t give a fuck about my ramblings, feel free to ignore this I won’t be offended. 

I am not experiencing a bit of a mental health crash randomly for seemingly no reason right now and I’m really really fucking struggling to even focus on this so I’m not sure if this will be coherent at all, but I wanted to post it before the year is over at least in my time zone.   
  


Basically I can’t thank you guys enough for all of the support. Before this story I hadn’t written anything in around two years. Two years of writers block so terrible I was physically incapable of even trying to write anything. I’ve never had such extreme problems before and I really wondered if I’d just be stuck like that forever. If my writing was just over.   
  


Writing this story happened completely on a whim. I saw bohemian rhapsody randomly and slowly got interested in the band mates themselves and then I found out people wrote fanfics on them, so I decided to check them out, still knowing next to nothing about the fandom or the band. One in particular called “is this the real life” inspired me to try and write again, and with the limited knowledge I had at the time roger was the one that drew my attention the most(he still is. My baby) so I focused on him.   
  


that was it. I had no plan for this when I started it. I didn’t think anyone would read it, I didn’t think my motivation would keep up for longer than a few chapters, I was just so fucking happy to be writing again. I never expected this fandom to change my life. I have discovered some incredible people and made one especially amazing friend who had provided so much motivation and encouragement in my writing and just in life in general. (I can’t tag on mobile but You know who you are. Bitch I love you thank you for making this year less shitty) I never expected to gain such amazingly supportive readers. If it weren’t for your sweet comments I would have given up on this so long ago.   
  


not only this story but I’ve written loads of one shots, and one of them actually got featured on a list of recommendations on tumblr which blew my mind completely. I’m still usually never satisfied with what I write. I feel like when I look at my own writing literally all I can see are the flaws. I’m sure if I were to go back an provide cometary on my work 90% of what I’d have to say would be negative. When I say in the notes that I hate the chapter or that I think it’s written badly that’s not an exaggeration or me trying to get pity comments and kudos.   
  


but you guys always say the nicest things. Even if I am convinced that I did a terrible job and people are going to hate what I’m posting, you guys just are so sweet and supportive and telling me to be nicer to myself (which is one of my goals for the new year actually) I will never understand what I did to deserve having you guys as my readers but I am so grateful for you all.

I know it takes me way too long to post and to respond to comments (mental health yay) but want you to know I don’t take you guys for granted. Especially those of you that comment on basically every single chapter I post. I see you, I love you, I appreciate you, even if I’m bad at expressing that.   
  


anyway I’m gonna shut up now as I’ve been rambling for ages. If you made it through this, I love you, but i can’t imagine anyone actually reading this nonsense.oh side note, I’m proud of you all for making it through 2020. Because this year... oh boy... 2020 was like an extreme endurance test that none of us signed up for. But it’s over now!! Let’s all just hope that 2021 will be overall a more positive year and that things will start to finally Feel okay again in the world. 

Oh well, I love you guys, and I’ll try to post a chapter soon. 

-Samantha 


	40. Not a chapter I’m so sorry

Uh. Hi.

So.... I’m alive. 

Okay so obviously it’s been a hot minute since I’ve updated this, so I wanted to come and apologize. I don’t know if this is annoying when I do this, i don’t see other authors doing it, but I just feel bad leaving you guys in radio silence. 

I was not planning on taking a break from this, at least not this long of one. I have been working on the next chapter, but the progress is at a snails pace. It is coming, it’s just coming slowly. I promise, I haven’t forgotten you guys! I’m not abandoning this! 

I actually want to ask you guys a question about future updates. So I’ve gotten a few comments that chapters feel short(which I kind of agree with sometimes) and let’s be honest I have been on the Freddie and roger talking bit for waaay too long now. So. What I was thinking of was continuing to write the next chapter (which is going to consist of them properly talking out the details and stuff) and not stopping until the conversation is over.(not capping it right around 1k words which is what I usually do. Idk why that’s just usually when I feel is a good stopping point. ) 

So! Do you guys want me to continue to post chapters as they have been so far, or would you rather me wait until this chunk of the story is done (I don’t know how long that would take/how long it would be) and post it all in one giant chapter. Let me know in the comments or shoot me a message on tumblr if you want (mercurymaemeddows) 

Anyway I’m sorry this ended up so long. I will be deleting this once the next chapter eventually goes up. I’m sorry to keep you guys waiting so long. Thank you for the continued support and love. I hope 2020 is treating you all well. 

-Samantha


End file.
